‘Because you are only sixteen and she would have said no,’ Irina said logically.
‘Exactly. Ma’am. I talked to Miss Callahan’s exes, and one of them sold me the video, but I did not put it in the article. My boss did.’
‘You gave it to your boss,’ Rafe said coldly. ‘What did you think would happen?’
‘I didn’t give it to my boss,’ Bunker insisted. ‘He called the guy who gave it to me and got his own copy. I gave my copy to the FBI. I didn’t use it.’
‘Why not?’ Rafe asked, still unconvinced. Until Bunker’s eyes filled with tears.
‘I couldn’t. I saw how she looked when that killer was dragging her from the hospital in February. How . . . empty her eyes were. I didn’t think the video was consensual, so I didn’t use it. I didn’t know that I didn’t think it was consensual yesterday, but I knew it was wrong.’
Rafe stared at Bunker, trying to parse that last sentence. Bunker stared back, tears now streaking down his face. Rafe sighed. ‘Okay. Assuming we believe you, why didn’t you turn the video over to the cops right away?’
The kid’s gulp was audible, but he straightened his spine. ‘I went back to Miss Callahan’s apartment to ask more questions of her neighbor, because she’d said nice things, but the accounts of the others were so contradictory that I needed more information. And I found her dead. Miss Romero, I mean.’
‘And didn’t call the NOPD until this morning,’ André snapped. ‘She’d been dead for thirty-six hours.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Bunker whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. I was scared and I freaked out and did the wrong thing.’
‘What made you call it in?’ Irina asked gently.
Bunker looked at his mother. ‘My mom. She found me passed out drunk and talked sense into my head. So I called the cops and reported the video. It got taken down right after.’
A harrumph came from the ground next to the front porch. Karl stood there, arms crossed. ‘I wondered why it was so easy to have it taken down. I thought my attorney had developed the voice of God or something.’
Rafe studied Bunker carefully. Now that he wasn’t crazy with anger, he could see that the kid appeared sincere. ‘Why were you so scared?’ he asked, his own tone softer.
Bunker visibly relaxed. ‘Because I saw the guy coming out of Miss Romero’s apartment. He looked . . . like, crazy happy. Emphasis on crazy. He scared the shit out of me.’
Erin cleared her throat. ‘Mr Bunker positively ID’d Ephraim Burton from a photo array.’ Her gaze rose to meet André’s. ‘And, according to Agent Hunter, he ID’d the roommate of Mercy’s ex-boyfriend.’
Bunker whipped around to stare at her. ‘The roommate?’
Erin nodded. ‘When you asked about Mercy, he figured he might make a dollar or two from the video he’d copied from Stan Prescott, the video that was surrendered as part of Prescott’s plea bargain.’
‘And Prescott was not Mercy’s ex,’ André growled. ‘Prescott is a slimy scumbag who roofied her at a party. She’d never seen him before or after.’
Bunker closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
André appeared unmoved. ‘You should have. You should have cross-checked.’
Bunker looked even more devastated. ‘That’s why I went to see Miss Romero. To cross-check.’
André started to speak, but Irina hooked her arm through his, patting him. ‘You cross-check before you publish,’ she said, her tone severe but controlled. ‘I hope this is a mistake you will never make again.’
‘No, ma’am,’ Bunker whispered. ‘I won’t.’
Rafe frowned. ‘So the guy who made the video, who assaulted Mercy, did not sell it to Bunker?’
Erin shook her head. ‘Nope. Prescott has been in Europe for the past three weeks. He might have had contact with Mr Bunker, but it doesn’t appear so.’
‘All my conversations were one-on-one, in person,’ Bunker said, looking disgusted with himself. ‘Dammit. I believed him. And it wasn’t a dollar or two. I gave him fifteen hundred.’
André whistled. ‘Where’d you get fifteen bills, kid?’
‘From my editor. He wired it to me. And when I held the video back, I guess he decided to take matters in his own hands. I’m sure he figured since he’d paid for it, he was going to use it.’
‘Do you still work for this . . . online trash magazine?’ Irina asked, her description of the gossip blog dripping with contempt.
‘No, ma’am. I quit. I . . . I just wanted to tell the story. I thought other survivors might get inspiration. But I fu— messed it all up.’
‘Yeah, you did,’ Rafe said with a sigh. ‘Why are you here now, though?’
Bunker bent over to retrieve the envelope that Rafe had thrown back at him. ‘I just wanted someone to give this to Miss Callahan.’
‘I caught him trying to come up the front walk,’ Erin said quietly. ‘I called Tom Hunter to verify what he said, and Tom did. I should have called you too, Rafe. I’m sorry.’
Rafe took the envelope from Bunker. ‘I’ll see that she gets this. And I’ll tell her what happened before I do. If she wants to see you, how should she contact you?’
Bunker patted his pockets. ‘Mom, you got a pen?’
His mother rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Jeff. I have a pen. I have paper, too.’ She found the items in an enormous handbag and gave them to her son.
Bunker scrawled his name, email address, and cell phone number on the paper and handed it to Rafe. ‘I really am sorry. When I saw that the guy trying to take her at the airport was the same guy I saw coming out of Miss Romero’s apartment, I . . . well, I guess I froze.’
‘He’s a dangerous, terrifying man,’ Gideon said quietly. ‘It’s best that you didn’t confront him. Did he see you?’
The color that Bunker had regained in his face drained once again. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Is my son in danger?’ his mother asked, her face also growing very pale.
Rafe wanted to shake them both. Duh. Burton’s only killed five people in the last two days. That they knew of. ‘It’s possible. It depends on if he knows that you’re the one who turned him in for Quill Romero’s murder. If he figures out you saw him, then yes.’
‘Can you give him protection?’ his mother asked, fear in her eyes.