Elizabeth entered the break room and paused when she saw Maggie standing in front of the fridge, her back to her and furrowing her brows. "Is the fridge in your office broken?" she asked, and the redhead jumped a little.
"Jesus, Liz," the ME said, turning to the grinning detective, "you scared the hell out of me."
Elizabeth chuckled and walked over to the old coffee maker that had probably been in the break room when Jane was still a detective. "I'm not sorry."
Maggie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest, "Very charming, Detective."
The detective was still grinning and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Thanks."
Maggie rolled her eyes one more time before walking over to her wife, and without warning, she ran her hands over Elizabeth's shoulders.
Elizabeth raised her brows in surprise but smiled. "Hi."
"Hi," Maggie replied, holding her wife's gaze. She could see clearly that the detective was exhausted. Not only because Elizabeth hadn't slept a wink all night but also because this case was getting to her. For this reason, the redhead had gone out of her office. To see if her wife would survive at least this one day unscathed.
Someone cleared their throat at the door. "Am I interrupting?"
Maggie turned to the person and shook her head when she saw Jane standing in the doorway. "Not at all."
Jane smiled wryly and entered the break room. "Just a minute, Liz: anything new on Christi?"
Elizabeth raised her brows briefly. "Nothing yet. Nick and Boonstra are following her trail on the Internet. Christi was active on a few platforms there, after all."
Jane nodded with a somber look." Yes. Lust-In and what it was all called. Seventeen-year-olds hustling. Girls used to play with dollhouses."
"Every woman actually wants to be a princess," Maggie said with a shrug.
"Not every woman," Elizabeth replied with a shake of her head, and Jane had to grin.
"If you're looking for me," Maggie said, making her way out of the break room, "you'll find me in my office."
xxx
Elizabeth had been talking to Judith Parrish, Christi's mother, for about an hour. The thing about the father groping Christi since early childhood was true. The thing about prostitution, Christi's mother didn't want to believe. So now it was Nick's turn.
They had already confiscated Christi's laptop. Nick had already cracked the relevant passwords. Joost Boonstra was also there, sitting in front of another computer in a white shirt that stretched across his stomach, staring doggedly at the monitor.
They had opened the Lust-In website.
"That's Christi, isn't it?" asked Nick, pointing to the profile of a young woman.
Elizabeth matched the image with some photos she had received from Judith Parrish, looked at the monitor wall in BRIC where they were, and nodded slowly. "Yes, that's her. What else does it say?"
"One of her names is Angeldust," Boonstra growled. "But since the name is quite common, she has another subtitle here: likesitrough."
Elizabeth's eyes flew over the description. Likesitrough. So, one who likes it rough ... Am without taboos, wants to be taken, just no permanent damage. "Sounds like submissive and S . After all, women who are humiliated as children often become submissive." She looked at her brother-in-law. "That's what the pimps at the Velvet Pearl told us. Or they become dominant to get back the control they lost."
Boonstra nodded slowly but in agreement. "Let's see what else is there. Blogs or chats or something ... We've got something there already. Cutting forums. How do I cut my skin. And then there's ... oh, God."
Elizabeth turned to him in wonder. "What?"
"Suicide forums. What kind of remedies do you have to take --"
Her eyes followed a thread where a suicide enthusiast talked about his preferences and remedies. "Sedatives," Elizabeth read half aloud, "Rohypnol ... We'll have to ask Kate or Maggie about that."
"This is where it gets exciting," Boonstra scrolled down.
Elizabeth read on. "Benzodiazepines are not good for suicide. You need way too much of it ... more like LSD. There, 0.1 milligrams is enough to induce a trip that may be your last ... It's as strong as 50 grams of psilocybin. Uh-huh."
"Somebody tried some other stuff here." Boonstra had found another thread that Christi had also read.
Elizabeth read on. "One milligram of Flunitrazepam totally hit home with me. Wouldn't like to know what would have happened if I had taken more than one milligram ... Better than Phenobarbital in any case. The amount you have to take before anything happens is off the charts. Calculated that you'd have to pop three hundred pills of that to make the big trip --" Elizabeth looked shocked. "Here she has been discussing her suicide plans with others."
"And on the side, she's been hustling," Nick said with a shake of his head. "At seventeen and a half years old. And apparently, by choice. That doesn't look like a happy childhood."
Elizabeth stood next to her brother-in-law. "All tragic, indeed. But that doesn't help us. Who's talking to Christi in these chats? Any suspicious chat partners who might be responsible for her disappearance?"
Boonstra shrugged his shoulders. "Everything is a little more controlled in this part of the Internet. People are more careful with their information."
"And where is that different?"
Nick and Boonstra looked at each other, grinning. "On the dark web! If she's been hanging around there, too," Nick said.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and slumped her shoulders. "On the Dark Web," she muttered, "Of course." She had already become acquainted with the Dark Web. The last bastion of the Internet, where virtually no laws still applied. "So, can we get in there?"
Boonstra looked at each other again. "We can!"
At that moment, Nick's phone rang. He looked at the display. "Forensics." He answered the call and put the conversation on speaker.
"The DNA is identical," said forensic scientist Eugene Dodson. Everyone knew immediately what was meant.
Nick and Boonstra's grins immediately sank. "The DNA of Christi Parrish?" the detective asked.
"Correct," Dodson replied. "The cut feet ... Are from Christi Parrish."
xxx
The DNA of the feet was that of Christi Parrish.
Elizabeth was still standing next to Nick and caught herself biting her nails. Something she had stopped doing for several years. The DNA of the feet was that of Christi Parrish.
That meant Christi was as good as dead. Maggie had determined that the feet had been severed postmortem. No one lived on for long with severed feet. The risk of infection alone was gigantic, and unless the perpetrator had his own operating room or some doctor's office, the girl could not live at all.
Elizabeth thought of Judith Parrish. And of the news, she would get. First, the daughter was gone. Then dead. And then without feet. And no one had noticed. Not fast enough, anyway. Two years ago, something like this had happened before. A girl had been kidnapped in Boston. The father took his daughter to the gym one afternoon and then didn't see her again for a hundred and eighty days.
The girl was held captive in a locked house. And forced into prostitution there. They had taken away her cell phone. The girl in the brothel had only been released because a john had taken pity on her and secretly called the police. Some children were even offered as sex slaves on sites like . For a short time, there had even been a category child rape, similar to household goods or garden tools, until it was deleted again.
In the meantime, Nick and Boonstra had already activated the TOR browser, which could be used to access the dark web. Their search was clear. Angeldust. That was what Christi had called herself at Lust-In and on the other platforms. That could be her name here, too.
Angeldust, Elizabeth thought. Angel Dust, also called Phencyclidine, was a hazardous drug similar to crystal meth.
A few minutes passed. All of a sudden, Boonstra let out a grunt. Said something in Dutch in his excitement. It sounded like Jeetje, which meant Oh dear. "Nick, you see that?" he asked.
Nick nodded slowly. "Yes. Angeldust666. The 666 has connotations of sex, for one thing. And with Satan. It's not like it's new. The picture, though, looks a lot like Christ."
Elizabeth looked at the monitor wall with furrowed brows and nodded. That was the picture of Christi. However, she didn't look sexy or happy here. The image was dark. She appeared to be sitting in a chair. Tied up. Somewhere in a dark basement vault.
"Where is that?" wanted Elizabeth to know.
"A red room," Boonstra said tonelessly. "Some say these things are an urban legend. But apparently, they do exist."
"Red Room," Elizabeth muttered. "Aren't they those places where --"
Boonstra nodded slowly. " ... Where people are tortured for money." He lowered his voice. "And the audience gets to decide what happens to them next. What gets cut off next. It's kind of like one of those peep show sites. Except here, it's not women undressing for money; it's people being tortured for money. They don't lose clothes here; they lose limbs."
Elizabeth shook her head. If there really was such a thing as these Red Rooms, they were the most perverse invention humanity had ever produced.
"Here's her name," Boonstra said suddenly. "Some users recognized her. And, oh God," Elizabeth shook her head again. "Her profile is deleted here. Just a short text now."
Angeldust666 is about to be released for slaughter. Someone had done something to Christi. I wonder if she was dead yet.
"Damn it," Boonstra hissed. "Who's running this damn Red Room?"
Nick took a deep breath. "Doesn't say here, I'm afraid."
"I'll check with Euro- and Interpol," Boonstra said. "They've got to be able to figure this out somehow." He picked up his cell phone and spoke to his colleagues.
Elizabeth looked at Nick while Boonstra was on the phone. "Have you had any dealings with Red Rooms before?"
Nick shook his head. "There are some stories, though. Like the one about the three prisoners who are ISIS terrorists. They've been carrying out terrorist attacks, cruelly murdering people. Now they're trapped in a Red Room. And anyone can join in and tell the torturers how to torture the terrorists."
"And then?"
"They are tortured. Everybody pays for it. It drags on. Hours. Or even days."
"And eventually they die?"
"Yes. That, too. But something else comes up."
Elizabeth's eyebrows drew together. "It was the other way around?"
Nick took a deep breath. "Right. The victims were not ISIS terrorists. The victims were a soldier, a journalist, and an aid worker. The torturers were ISIS people ... And ... the users, we all participated. And paid money for it, too."
Boonstra re-entered BRIC. "We got something. Interpol sent us a link."
"And he is?" asked Elizabeth with furrowed brows.
"Apparently, the operator of the Red Room. His name is BodyCounter." Boonstra pressed his lips together.
Elizabeth's gaze darkened as she looked at the Wall. "BodyCounter," she said softly. "We'll find you too!"