golfing trophy for the police league. Numbers from various marathons. She looked at the plaque on his desk. His first name was Jacob. Captain Jacob Mayhew.
Harvey said, “There ya go.”
“Thanks.” Mayhew turned the keyboard back around as Harvey left the room. He straightened the mouse, then clicked on one of the files. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
Claire knew what he had. She looked away while he clicked open a handful of movies and watched them. The sound on his computer was turned off. All she could hear was Mayhew’s steady breathing. She supposed you didn’t get to the rank of captain by being surprised by what humanity could throw at you.
Several minutes passed. Finally, Mayhew let go of the mouse. He settled back in his chair again. He pulled at his mustache. “Well, I wish I could tell you I haven’t seen stuff like this before. Much worse, being honest.”
“I can’t believe …” Claire could not articulate the things she could not believe.
“Listen, ma’am, I know it’s shocking. Trust me. The first time I saw this kind of stuff, I couldn’t sleep for weeks, even though I knew it was fake.”
Claire felt her heart leap. “It’s fake?”
“Well, yeah.” He stopped mid-chuckle. “It’s called snuff porn. It’s not real.”
“Are you sure?”
He turned the monitor so she could see for herself. One of the movies was frozen on-screen. He pointed out, “See this shadow here? That’s the connection for the squib. Do you know what a squib is?”
Claire shook her head.
“It’s a Hollywood thing, like a little plastic bladder filled with fake blood. They hide it under clothes or stick it on your back. The bad guy comes along and supposedly shoots you, or in this case machetes you, and then another guy off-camera presses a button and the squib explodes and the blood pours out.” He traced his finger along a shadow at the woman’s side. “This dark line here is the wire that connects to the squib. They got remote-controlled ones now, so I guess this was low budget, but—”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s fake. Not even good fake.”
“But, the girl—”
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. She looks just like Anna Kilpatrick.”
Claire hadn’t been thinking that at all, but now that he’d said it, the resemblance was uncanny.
“Lookit,” Mayhew said, “I know about your past. Your sister.”
Claire felt a warm sensation rush through her body.
“If I had a sister who disappeared like that, I’d probably be quick to make these kinds of connections, too.”
“That’s not what I—” Claire stopped herself. She had to appear calm. “This has nothing to do with my sister.”
“You look at this girl in the movie, and you think, Brown hair, brown eyes, young, pretty. It’s Anna Kilpatrick.”
Claire’s eyes went to the frozen image on-screen. How had she not noticed before? Every time he said the girl’s name, the resemblance became more obvious.
“Mrs. Scott, I’m gonna be honest because I feel for you.” He patted his hand on the desk. “I really feel for you.”
Claire nodded for him to continue.
“This has to stay between us, all right? You can’t tell nobody else.”
She nodded again.
“The Kilpatrick girl.” He slowly shook his head side to side. “They found blood in her car. A lot of blood. You know what I mean? The kind of blood that you need inside your body if you’re going to stay alive.”
“She’s dead?” Claire felt a weight crushing her chest. She realized that somewhere, somehow, she had been hoping the girl was alive.
“Mrs. Scott, I really am sorry about your loss. And I’m sorry that you had to see this side of your husband. Men are pigs, all right? Take it from a pig who knows.” He tried to smile. “Guys can look at some hard-core shit, excuse my language, but that doesn’t mean they’re into it or even want to do it. This kind of stuff is all over the Internet. And as long as it’s not kids, it’s legal. And it’s disgusting. But that’s kind of what the Internet is for, right?”
“But …” Claire grasped for words. The more she thought about it, the more the girl looked like Anna Kilpatrick. “Don’t you think it’s an odd coincidence?”
“No such thing,” Mayhew said. “There’s something called the Law of Truly Large Numbers. Get a big enough sample size, outrageous things are bound to happen.”
Claire felt her eyes widen, her lips part, in a textbook example of shock.
“Is something wrong?”
She worked to return her expression to some semblance of normal. He might as well