There were dozens of photographs of her. There she was at work, in the parking garage, bending over to pick something up, on the phone, laughing at lunch. She gasped. What the fuck? At the apartment, too. Naked, getting dressed, talking on the phone in her FaceTime costumes. He had obviously been stalking her for months. Without a word, never taking her eyes off the man on the cross, she handed the camera to Eric.
The camera had re-set to the beginning. He scowled as he thought of all of those women around the city, blithely going on about their business without a clue that they were being watched. Photographed. Their privacy invaded, their images virtually raped by this man. When he came to the first photo of Donna, he looked no further. With an anguished cry, he held the camera high over his head, as if to throw it against the wall.
Both Lance and Donna screamed in unison, "Don't!"
"My work!" Lance pleaded. "My camera! That's worth a lot of money. You have no right."
"The cops!" Donna cried. "It's proof." She walked to Eric and laid a hand on his arm to calm him. She had never seen him so angry. She wasn't sure he could even hear her, so intent was he on destroying the camera with its vile contents.
Slowly, he lowered the camera and pulled out his phone. "Yes, I'd like to report a Peeping Tom," he said quietly, giving the club address. "What? No. Trust me, he's not going anywhere."
15
All is Well
The hearing for Lance Glover was well-attended. When word got out at the magazine that one of their own, or who had been one of their own, would stand before a judge, Worth announced that anyone wanting to be there could have the day off. Although he had done nothing wrong in the hiring process, he still felt responsible at some level. The least he could do was appear in court, answer any questions the judge might have, and restrain Eric if it came to that. Donna had described the events leading to Lance's arrest, and Worth secretly wished that Eric had taken more liberties with the troll.
Newspaper headlines simply read Peeper in Custody. Every scared woman and indignant husband came out of the woodwork for the spectacle. Just as the community had breathed a corporate sigh of relief when Jessica had identified the arsonist last year, it now breathed another for a little while, at least for now. Rumor had it that Lance Glover could identify other Peeping Toms in the city and was anxious to cooperate with the authorities. A plea bargain was on the table, but all that would be decided later.
Today, Judge William Tate eyed the full house in his courtroom, wishing he'd gotten the haircut his wife had been nagging him about for weeks. The Peeping Tom case would be in the news and stay in the news, possibly for a very long time. The judge smiled. It was an election year.
His wife had issued clear orders at breakfast: no way should that horrible man be free on bail. The judged squirmed in his seat. Although there were multiple infractions, Lance Glover had no prior arrests. Under the law, there wasn't much wiggle room. But there was some.
Donna happened to be looking at Judge Tate when the bailiff handed him a folded note. The judge opened it, his mouth moving a little as he read. Grimly, he nodded and said something to the bailiff, who headed off in a hurry, his purpose unrevealed to the courtroom.
When the time came, Judge Tate addressed the accused, "Lance Glover, you have been charged with voyeurism, invasion of privacy, petit theft, assault, and the sale or distribution of pornography. How do you plead?"
Lance Glover displayed none of the bravado he'd shown at the magazine—a few nights in county lock-up can be educational—but he spoke loudly and clearly, "Not guilty, your honor." The spectators responded with various catcalls and boos, necessitating the judge's use of his gavel.
When the room was quiet again, the Assistant District Attorney asked the judge to consider Glover a flight risk. He had no family in the area and had recently quit his job, he said, waving vaguely in Worth's direction. The judge took it all in. The magazine. Maybe they would like to do a feature on him? Good publicity…
The public defender was about to put in her own two cents when one of her assistants handed her another folded note. She conferred with Glover and then addressed the judge. "There are protesters outside the courtroom, Your Honor. Mr. Glover is happy to stay in protective custody. Request for bail is withdrawn."
After sitting in jail for several weeks, despite the numerous allegations, Lance Glover never stood trial. As expected, he pled out, alerting the police to several other enterprising photographers in the city he knew to be operating currently for the benefit of a particular online pornographer—some professional, like him, others, amateurs. In exchange for his testimony, he was granted five years' probation—in another city. A group of women also filed a class action civil suit, winning a nice settlement.
Madame X's club did not suffer at all from the eventful night with Eric and Lance. There was an upgrade to the security system—keypads rather than keys—and Madame X hired full-time staff to maintain safety and privacy for her clients. It was rumored that Lance had installed tiny hidden cameras, which Madame X never confirmed or denied. She did, however, assure her clients that after a brief closure, the club had passed a thorough inspection and was open for business. There was, if anything, an uptick in membership.
It was a beautiful spring day in the city, sunny with a cool breeze announcing that they might have a few more days of sweater weather before things heated up. Eric met Donna downtown for lunch—he
