The team traded wary looks.
The attorney’s navy-blue three-piece suit draped smartly, for so large a man, and Chase figured his gold Vacheron Constantin Patrimony watch retailed in the neighborhood of twenty grand.
Harrow swung the laptop on Byrnes’s desk to-ward the group, merely saying what they were about to see had come in on the tip line.
Chase watched until it turned gruesome, then turned her attention to the team. She saw them all, from stoic Harrow to boisterous Choi, set their jaws firmly when Don Juan’s metallic voice cut through the speakers.
Carmen was looking away — she had seen it enough times already.
When the homicidal home movie ended, Michael Pall spoke. “Lot of fake snuff flicks out there. This one looks real.”
His voice uncharacteristically soft, Choi said, “Those weren’t special effects.”
Jenny, with no more expression than a bisque baby, said, “Nothing digital there.”
Someday, kiddo, Chase thought, all of that stuff you push down is going to come roiling up.
Carmen said, “I was going through the overnight stuff and ran across the damn thing.”
Harrow said, “We’ll get Jenny right on tracing it, after this meeting.”
“Done deal,” Jenny said.
With a nod toward the laptop, Harrow said, “Does anyone doubt we’ve witnessed the birth of a serial killer?”
Pall, the profiling expert, said, “Not necessarily his debut. More a coming-out party.”
“A serial killer we spawned,” Byrnes said, face as gray as clay.
A rich baritone rumbled in like thunder.
“There are those,” the attorney said, “who may think the network itself is behind this, to boost ratings and ad revenue.”
“Ratings?” Anderson said. “Revenue? Why would anyone think that? You’ve already heard us say this is no fake.”
Richards said, “How many shoulders would you have to tap, down on the street, before you found somebody who thinks the moon landings were staged? And somebody else who thinks the president was born in Kenya?”
Harrow said, “All due respect, Mr. Richards, I don’t think our audience is that cynical. They know we’re sincere about what we do on Crime Seen.”
“J.C.’s right,” Carmen said. “No significant number of viewers will think that we elaborately faked this video, much less set a serial killer loose to goose ratings.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a show created ‘killer’ ratings,” Richards said. “A Brazilian TV host, one Wallace Souza, was indicted for hiring hit men to provide him material to cover on his reality show.”
“No,” Choi said, eyes wide.
“Yes,” Richards said, calm as a funeral director.
Chase, anger spiking her voice, said, “Are you suggesting we copied this Brazilian dipstick’s MO? What sort of absurd—”
“I’m not suggesting anything, Ms. Chase,” Richards cut in. “I am here to advise Mr. Byrnes, and yourselves, of the legal ramifications of this unfortunate situation. And to provide you with some... call it, informed kibitzing.”
Choi said to the attorney, “If we do come under fire, or suspicion, or whatever... are you going to represent us?”
But Carmen answered for him, “No. His job is to protect UBC.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Choi asked Richards.
This time Pall answered for the attorney: “Yank our show off the air and sweep that video under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“No, they won’t do that,” Choi said, cockiness returning. “We make them too much money.”
Carmen said, “We could also cost them a lot of money.”
“I agree,” Pall said. “We have apparently inspired one of our viewers to ‘try out’ to be our next ‘guest’ villain. Even if legal payback proves impractical for the parents of the victim, the attacks on us and UBC from the media would be as merciless as what that maniac did to that poor girl.”
They all pondered that.
Chase sighed, shook her head. “J.C. — what do you think? Should this tape, with the killer’s request for attention, be buried?”
Harrow didn’t hesitate: “No.”
“You’d give in to him?” Jenny said, the disappointment in her voice palpable.
“I didn’t say that.”
Anderson, similarly disappointed, asked, “You’d air that foul thing?”
“I didn’t say that either.” Harrow moved up alongside the seated Byrnes. “We don’t air it... but neither do we bury it. We can’t shrug it off and pretend we thought it was a hoax.”
“What’s left?” Carmen asked.
Chase said, “Call the police, like good citizens.”
Harrow nodded. “We’re just TV performers, after all. This is a matter for the authorities.”
Richards said, “I speak for network legal when I say I agree with you, J.C. — I must insist upon you calling the police. And do not air this video.”
Pall said, “Stop and consider, Mr. Richards — everyone. I understand that if we were to give in, and air this thing, a maniac owns us. But remember, he does not ask us to keep the police out — in fact, he wants to go public... TV public.”
“Agreed,” Harrow said.
Pall went on: “But if we don’t air the video — if we fail to give him what he wants — we risk two women dying at this madmen’s hands next week.”
Looking sick, Byrnes said, “If word gets out that two women died because we didn’t air a video... then what becomes of Crime Seen, and UBC?”
“You might add the two women to that list,” Carmen said sharply.
Good for you, Chase thought.
Then Chase said, “J.C., the cops are understaffed and overworked right now. Even if they decide Don Juan presents a genuine threat, there isn’t a hell of a lot they can do about it.”
Pall said, “I hear the crime lab is backed way the hell up.”
“Meanwhile,” Choi said, “we sit on our hands? Really?”
Clearly Harrow had been mulling all this.
He said, “Crime Seen has the best team of forensic scientists anywhere, and thanks to Dennis here, some of the most cutting-edge lab equipment on the planet. Maybe we could... lend a hand.”
Byrnes’s eyes flashed. “Well... if you do... it’s as part of the show. Cameras come along.”
Harrow shrugged. “You and UBC are paying the freight, aren’t you? Sure, the cameras come along.”
Anderson was shaking that surfer-boy blond head of his, saying, “The LAPD is not about to let us in on this investigation.”
Chase said, “Why, were we planning on asking permission?”
That got some smiles, but Anderson pressed: “Those small-town sheriff and police departments we ran into on the Kansas case, they were undermanned. They were happy for the help, and glad to rub shoulders with TV personalities.”
Choi said, “Is that what we are?”
Chase said, “You wish.”
But Anderson kept going: “LAPD are pros among pros, they’re good, and they live in, you know... Tinsel Town. They are not impressed by faces a heck of a lot more famous than ours. We step on the toes of the LAPD and there will be hell to pay.”
At least he said “hell,” Chase thought, not “heck.”
Jenny said, “So we go sub rosa.”
Everybody looked at her, surprised.
“Hey,” she said, with a shrug and a girlish smile. “You know what the bad guys say? It only counts when they catch you.”