Page 65 of Resolutions

“If you can think of something bad, that's what happens,” Sebastian says bluntly, ignoring Law's warning look. “They bid on methods.”

“My Lord and savior,” Evelyn breathes.

“The highest bidder dictates what happens,” Law continues, his voice clinically detached. “Tonight, we witnessed a set-up scene where the woman was dressed up like a maid. A group of men broke into her fake home. They proceeded to smack her around, strip her, then tie her to the kitchen table where they.” He stops talking, looking from me to Evelyn, then back. “Let's just say it wasn't good. They had multiple rounds with her, someincluded household items that were, ah, made to fit.” Law blows out a breath. “The ladies also found stored footage. Evelyn was right, this has been happening for a long time. And I'm afraid to say, it looks like if the bidder was willing to pay big bucks, then sometimes women didn't survive. There is always assault, there are always some sort of sexual acts, and the woman is always in distress.”

The fluorescent lights suddenly seem too bright, the room too small. I grip the table's edge as bile rises in my throat.

Evelyn asks in a small voice, “Michael did this?”

“Michael owns and runs it.” Law slides over a document dense with financial data. “The site's announcer matches his voice patterns with ninety-five percent accuracy. He introduces each session, declares winning bids, and describes their chosen activities. He's not just aware. He's the architect of all of it. All of it.” Law leans back against his chair.

Mouse appears in the doorway, her usual bouncy demeanor absent. “The missing teacher from Boulder Canyon.” She glances at me, eyes haunted. “We found her. The librarian too. We're trying to get into the mainframe so we can operate all the cameras. Also, the finance search only has ten more minutes.”

“Good job, thank you,” Law nods at Mouse, who pivots and leaves the room. Sebastian excuses himself, and I watch him jog down the hall the way Mouse went.

I remember the families at the press conference begging, pleading for any information on their loved ones. The husband, moms, dads, sisters, all of them in tortured agony while Michael sat right there knowing exactly where they were and what was happening to them. The room tilts slightly, and I have to sit back in my chair and grip the armrests.

Evelyn's face has gone chalk white; her hands clenched so tight her knuckles match the color of her face. “For years,” her words barely a whisper. “That man has been in my house,” her voiceshaking with rage, tears streaming down her face. “He's held my granddaughters. Stared at my girls.” Her voice breaks. “That monster sat at my table, ate my food, slept under my roof, all the while he knew women were being hurt.” She can't finish.

“Mom?” I touch her arm gently.

She looks at me and speaks through clenched teeth. “My family, our family, he played us, he played all of us.” She raises her face to look at Law. The mix of fury and revulsion in her voice cuts like a knife. “Whatever it takes. Whatever you need, Charlie and I will help. Michael has to be stopped.”

“We will stop him, I promise,” Law assures her. “The twins found that, in the beginning, it appeared Michael was taking homeless women. They're easier, no one to go to the cops when they go missing. But his recent victims fit a different profile. Regular women, more professional. No signs of drug use. We found three other missing women in a two-hundred-mile search.”

“Better women,” I echo hollowly, Michael's words taking on horrifying new meaning. “He told me that's what his clients wanted.”

“Wallace, you watched these sessions?” Evelyn asks him sharply.

“Yes, we had to. The judge needed firsthand evidence before issuing the warrant. The ladies had to provide recordings of sessions.”

“Did you obtain a warrant?”

“We have a condition for a federal warrant—we need to tie the business to Michael himself. The voice match is a good start and Melanie's testimony is enough for the judge to allow us to hold Michael, but we need something else.” Law leans forward. “I had to wake a judge, but timing is crucial. We can't have Michael find out the ladies have cracked his security, and they believe the longer it takes, the more likely he will be to catch them. Ifhe suspects we're closing in, I have no doubt he'll run. We've seen it. People like this have detailed plans for every possible contingency, escape routes, fake identities, unknown homes. It's imperative we catch him completely off guard. When we're ready, we'll set a trap and catch him.”

“Use me.” The words emerge with surprising steadiness.

“What? No!” Evelyn protests. “Melanie, Michael's far more dangerous than we imagined.”

“But it has to be me. He has a vendetta. He said this was supposed to be a quick chase so he could get his jollies. But I figured out he was cheating. He knew where I was all the time. Don't you see?” I hold the back of her hand. “I'm the one who got away. The woman who outsmarted him.” My gaze shifts to Law. “Michael's ego can't resist. He'll come get me wherever I am.”

Law studies me for a long moment. “It's incredibly risky,” he says finally. “But you're right. You're the best chance we have of drawing him into the open. If we can get him somewhere public, we can be there the whole time. As soon as we have him, Tobias can move in on the warehouse.”

“I can't sit by and let him hurt anyone else,” I shake my head, “not when I can help stop him.”

“The girls have gotten into the warehouse cameras,” Sebastian announces, entering the room. “Facial recognition has already identified six missing women.”

“That's fantastic! I'll call the judge.” Law picks up his phone just as Keyboard bursts in, her usual playful demeanor replaced by cold fury.

“WE GOT IT! Just as we finished identifying the last woman, the other program finished.” She runs to Law and hands him a stack of papers. “Look,” she points to one of the papers. “And here,” she switches the sheets. “And there too,” she moves another sheet to the front of the pile.

I can feel the anxiety and anxiousness from everyone in the room. Please let this be what we need, I say to myself over and over.

Law grabs his phone and stands. “Show them,” he says, then leaves the room.

Keyboard sets her laptop down on the table. “The program found three transactions. All three came from an Emperor-owned property to Michael's private bank account. Plus, we got every viewer IP address of his, every bank account transaction, everything. Including all the records from the website. That ugly bastard keeps records of everything.”

The screen comes to life and Keyboard shows us the transactions, all hundreds of thousands of dollars. Each time I see Michael's name on the screen, my heart skips.

---