But what’s done is done. We just want to know what’s going on, and why you and the Felon E blog are being used as the vehicle for these murders. We’ve confirmed that everyone that we know of who’s been killed was a participant on your blog. Did you issue some sort of challenge to them recently, a contest or something?”
“Not that I know of. I went through my archives before I came down. I’ve done a couple of blogs on the Zodiac in the past, especially when they did the movie, but none on the Boston Strangler or Son of Sam. I haven’t ever run a contest, that’s not my kind of thing. As for a challenge, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Could you have accused someone of something, or asked your readers to rally around a certain case or victim?”
Had she? She racked her brain and came up with nothing. She shook her head mutely.
“Then why would he decide to use your blog in particular, of all the ones that are out there in the world? Why you, Colleen?”
Why me indeed. A deranged fan? A killer she’d helped put away who’d gotten parole?
“I can’t tell you that. I have no idea why. All I know is what I reported, and the fact that my commenters are dying because of it.”
“Not because of your story, I don’t think. Your blog’s been in play for a while. I wonder if you simply stumbled across something you weren’t supposed to.”
“Well, yesterday’s hacking certainly left no doubt that whoever is responsible is aware of the blog, at the very least. There must have been a hundred comments that said, ‘I know who you are.’ And no one, no one, knows who I am.”
“ Someone obviously does. Your contacts know who you are, don’t they? Or is everything you do anonymous?”
Jackson had a disconcerting way of leaning forward as she talked, right into Colleen’s personal space. It was a good, solid interrogation technique: make the victim feel like they mattered, that you were hanging on every word. Colleen got the sense that very little passed by Taylor Jackson. She paid attention to every word out of Colleen’s mouth, but was reading the context, her body language, the unspoken as much as the spoken. Tommy had said she was one hell of an investigator. Colleen understood how that could be the case-she was able to pry information out of the littlest details.
“Everything I do is supposed to be anonymous. I protect my identity as much as possible, especially from my contacts. They call me Felony. It’s a private joke-”
“Yeah, on the blog’s name. I get it. So if they don’t know who you are, how do you get them to talk?”
“Any way that I can. I give them a sympathetic ear, mostly. Some want money. I’m willing to donate a little bit to the cause, twenty here, twenty there. I won’t pay up front for a scoop. They have to be willing to share without recompense, I’ll only pad their paws after they give me verifiable information. Honestly, you’d be surprised at how many people want to help for free, simply to see the right thing done.”
“How many people do you have in Metro?”
Colleen almost laughed. Almost. Jackson’s face had hardened; she didn’t like this. Colleen couldn’t blame her. The idea of her whole department leaking like a sieve might be a difficult point to swallow.
“I don’t have anyone in this office, if that’s what you’re asking, Lieutenant. That’s as far as I’m willing to go discussing my contacts. Right now, they aren’t relevant. What we need to be worrying about is the fact that the victim pool is my commenters.”
“I don’t think anything is irrelevant, Colleen. We’ve already had a leak. One of the news stations in New York called here just a bit ago, asking questions. So first things first. Take down the blog,” Jackson said.
Colleen stiffened in her seat. “No.”
“Colleen. Be reasonable. You’re putting your readers at risk every moment they’re still in play. They count on you for entertainment, for news. Let them know they can count on you to keep them safe, too.”
“I won’t do it. I refuse to be chased off because some lunatic has it in for me.”
“Has it in for you? It’s your commenters he’s killing. Your livelihood. Without the fans, would your blog be anything? Of course not. Really, Colleen. Listen very carefully. You’re playing with fire. You’ve got too much to lose. This man will stop at nothing to get what he wants. You are disposable. You don’t matter to him. You’re a means to an end, and he will use you then kill you when you’re no longer necessary to his little games. In the meantime, a lot of innocent people are going to be caught in the crossfire. I’m telling you, we need to take the blog down.”
“No. Absolutely not. I won’t be bullied into submission by a lunatic, or by the police. If I take it down, it will send a clear signal to everyone in this industry that they can be scared out of business. I have to stand up for all of us.”
Jackson paused for a moment, then threw up her hands. “Fine. I’m sorry you feel that way. I suppose we’ll just have to take it down for you.”
Colleen rose from her chair. Fury coursed through her. “Don’t you even think about-”
“It’s already done.” Jackson nodded to the door, where the handsome Detective Ross stood, a small frown on his face. “How-”
“Detective Ross is one of the finest forensic detectives in the country. He’s taken the site down, set in motion a system to contact your commenters and alert them to look after their safety.”
“You can’t do that. It’s illegal. Client confidentiality.”
“Once they leave a comment in the ether, it’s public domain.”
“No, no, no. It’s not. It’s a private domain. They have to register for the site. It’s only open to commenters who have opted to give me their information, and those are the only ones who can participate in the comments. I have a strict privacy clause in place, drawn up by an intellectual-property-rights attorney, that they must agree to, not to mention the rights of the hosting company and the content management system I use. There is an expectation of privacy by joining my group. You can’t contact them without my permission, or a warrant.”
Jackson got right in her face. “Please. Give me a break, Colleen. It’s just a blog. And if it’s that private, the killer is on that list of people. We need those names.”
Colleen started to sputter, but Jackson held up a hand. “Don’t bother getting outraged. You’re lucky we aren’t charging you with obstruction. We need to be serious for a moment. Sit back down, take a deep breath, relax and start talking. You came to me for help, remember? Quit wasting my time if you don’t have anything to add to the discussion besides bullshit.”
Colleen stayed on her feet. “You’re a bitch.”
Jackson laughed, short and knowing, then grew serious. “Maybe I am. But I’m much more worried about saving lives than us being girlfriends. Okay? Can we stop playing around and get down to business? People are dying, Colleen. You, and your son, are in grave danger. If you won’t do it for me, think of Flynn. Think about what Tommy would want you to do.”
Colleen was defeated. She recognized the feeling. She’d just been outplayed. She didn’t like it, but she had to respect the gamesmanship. For Jackson to use Colleen’s dead husband and her living child against her was low, but it had served its purpose. She tamped down her own anger, sat back at the table and pulled a notebook from her bag. Flipped it open. Started to read aloud. Enjoyed the look of pure shock on the lieutenant’s face as she started reading off the victims’ names and her website numbers, and the Pretender’s victim pool grew exponentially larger.
Thirty-Three
T aylor left Colleen in the conference room alternately vocalizing her anger with Taylor and casting coquettish glances at Lincoln. She found a quiet corner at the end of the hallway. The industrial fluorescents were over-bright. Or maybe she was overtired. She glanced at her TAG Heuer watch, it was nearly morning. The interview had taken almost an hour, with Colleen fighting her every step of the way. She had enough information to go forward, but something was missing. Specifically, why Colleen had been targeted in the first place. There were plenty of true- crime blogs on the web. Even a couple of other national sites that were run out of Nashville, according to Colleen. So why her? There was something missing, a piece they were overlooking, but damn if she could see what that was.
Taylor leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. What kind of game was Ewan Copeland playing?
