I held my breath while Erika scrolled through a slide show starring Roger Haberman, tilted, slightly out of focus images all obviously captured by his webcam. Roger lounging on a sofa, grinning sappily. Roger bare-chested. Roger with his fly undone.
“Eeeek!”
Erika's forefinger hovered over the mouse. “Shall I go on?”
“God, no. I've seen more of Roger Haberman in the last few seconds than I ever want to see.”
Emily raked her fingers through her long blond hair, working out the nighttime tangles. “What I want to know, Mother, is what makes guys think that looking at a photo of his, um, equipment, is going to turn a woman on?”
“It sure doesn't work for me,” I told my daughter.
“Not to mention that it's totally against the law,” Erika reminded us. “In almost every state it's generally a crime to send children obscene material, even if it turns out the recipient is an adult posing as a child.”
“Sounds like Roger's toast,” I said.
“Totally. For that alone. Now, let's take a look at some of Roger's chat with little thirteen-year-old Cyndi.”
MDGUY4U:
when is ur mom not there?
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA:
when shes at work r with her bf r out at the jim
MDGUY4U:
so ur home alone?
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA:
yeppers
MDGUY4U:
Mind if I call?
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA:
monday is my day off frm skool
MDGUY4U:
Lucky u
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA:
for teachers meeting r sumthin
MDGUY4U:
Kewl
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA:
lemme go see if moms got her stoopid skedule on da fridge
MDGUY4U:
ok
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA:
shes off dis weekend
MDGUY4U:
Kewl
MDGUY4U:
wat u wanna do?
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA: LOL I DONT CARE
MDGUY4U: DO U WANT ME TO SUCK ON UR TITTIES
?
Feeling ill, I scanned down the chat, all the way near the end where
MDGUY4U
had arranged to meet
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA
and her titties at her home in Rockville, Maryland, which turned out to be the sting house where he would later get busted.
“Enough!” I cried.
But Erika chugged on. “And down here we have⦔ She worked the mouse, scrolling quickly to the end of the chat. “See here?”
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA
: whats ur number?
MDGUY4U
: I cn get in trouble just talking to you. lol
CYNDI_WITH_NO_FELLA
: lol. No 1 will ever no, silly.
MDGUY4U
: ok
“The bastard knows she's underage.” Erika snorted. “But watch how fast he sends Cyndi his phone number anyway.”
While I stared in disbeliefâthis was my pastor's husband talking dirty hereâErika highlighted the phone number. “That's Roger's actual cell phone number. And that's my job.”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm the verifier. I call the guy up, pretend to be Cyndi, and verify that he's for real.” Her voice slid up an octave; she sounded no more than twelve or thirteen. “Oh, snap! Dad just walked in. He's so bunk.”
Emily smiled. “Erika's got the lingo down pat.”
“How do you sleep at night, Erika,” I asked, “knowing all these perverts are out there lurking on the Internet?”
“I sleep because for every perve we catch, there are ten, maybe twenty, little girls and boys who won't be abused.
“Listen to this.” Erika clicked around, then read an excerpt from another long, dirty chat.
“âIf you are interested, I could show you a few tricks.' And the child replies, âWhat kind of tricks?' Then he IMs back, âLet's put it this way. I am a little older and more experienced than you. I have been married and have tried many different things and can probably show you things that your boyfriend never even thought about.'
“It goes on and on,” Erika said.
“Sick.”
“What happens now, Erika?”
“My best guess is that the police will eventually come calling on old Roger and he'll be heading for the slammer.”
But it wasn't Roger I was feeling sorry for, it was his wife, Eva.
My heart ached for my friend. I prayed she hadn't seen the broadcastâthat would have been too cruel. “Poor Eva.”
“What do you mean, âPoor Eva'? She had to have known about this.”
“Not necessarily.”
“But she certainly knows now. And I, Erika Rose,” she said with a flourish, “took the liberty of notifying the congregation via the St. Catherine's e-mail list.”
“My God, Erika!” Even for a lawyer, the woman had chutzpah. “Isn't that list supposed to be used for church business only? No one wants to be swamped with used car notices and the latest religious jokes making the rounds on the Internet.”
“Chill, Mom. I told her to do it.”
“You?”
“I can't think of anything more relevant to the business of the church than to inform its congregation that their pastor is harboring a pedophile.”
Erika demonstrated how easily we could e-mail anyone a link to Roger Haberman's special Predator-Beware Web page featuring his picture, his cell phone number, and the full text of his revolting chat room sessions with Cyndi, page after page of it. “We sent it to his boss on Monday, asking if this was the kind of guy they wanted working around the kids enrolled in the sailing program.”
Cassandra Matthews would have found out about the
Cross Current
program soon enough anyway, but even so, I thought that Erika's actions were a bit over the top. Roger was guilty as hell, of course, and he'd brought it all upon himself, but with everyone ganging up on him, I worried about the guy. “He'll have some excuse to explain away his behavior,” I suggested.
“They all do,” Erika said. “You heard it on the show last night, didn't you? Same old thing. I've never done this before. I knew she wasn't twelve, I was just playing along. I'm here because I thought the house was for sale. How lame is that?”
“I'm a bit uncomfortable with it, to tell you the truth. At the end of the day, your group is just a bunch of vigilantes. It's the twenty-first-century version of tar, feathers, and running a guy out of town on a rail. Almost makes me feel sorry for some of them.”
“Look, we're not totally devoid of compassion. We offer pedophiles the opportunity to post rebuttals, for example, and we'll actually remove them from the website if they can prove they're getting help. But, trust me, Hannah. These guys are dyed in the wool perverts. Do you want to see how ridiculously easy it is?”
“Convince me.”
Erika relinquished her chair and motioned me over to the keyboard. “Have you ever signed up for an account on Yahoo?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, then. Log on to Yahoo dot com and set up a new user ID.”
While Erika and Emily watched, I tried half a dozen combinations before I came up with a screen name that hadn't already been used: Krazy_4_Katz.
“Now, go ahead and set up a profile.”
With Erika coaching me, I filled in the blanks for Candy Williams. When I came to the section for date of birth, I closed my eyes and started counting backward, trying to come up with a date that would make Candy turn thirteen on her next birthday.
When I started to fill in the age blanks, Erika raised a cautionary hand. “Don't do that. If Yahoo thinks you're under eighteen, they won't let you into the chat room. Either lie or leave it blank.”
“But how will the guy know that I'm only thirteen?”
“When the time comes, you'll tell him.” She flapped a hand. “Now, go on. Try out your ID in a chat room.”
Erika showed me how to find the chat rooms, and suggested that I join one of the regional chats. There were chat rooms for every major metropolitan area. Washington, D.C., had five. I clicked my mouse and, simple as that, I was in.
“What now?”
“Now you wait.”
I watched, alternately amazed and disgusted, by the amount of traffic scrolling by me in the room. People joined the chat, stayed for a while, and left. One strange, misspelled message repeated itself so many times that I was certain it was being generated by a robot. Hands off the keyboard, folded in my lap, I ignored them all.
“Some of these guys are just goofing off,” Erika commented. “Others are probably kids pretending to be horny, thirty-five-year-old guys, but way too many are exactly who they say they are, and they'll end up arranging to meet the child.”
After only two minutes a box popped up on my screen titled
PM
. DonnieWants2Screw had dropped in to say “Hi.”
“It says PM. What does that mean, Erika?”
“Private message. That's where they'll try to lure you in.”
“Do I want to talk to someone named DonnieWants2Screw? I don't think so.”
“That's okay. Just wait.”
After a few
Hello U Theres
, DonnieWants2Screw gave up and Randy_in_Rockville29 stopped by, desperate to talk to Candy, too. “What should I say?”
Erika shrugged, so I typed
Hi
.
A/s/l
, Randy replied.
From reading the previous chats, I knew what that meant. Age, sex, location. I typed in
13/F/Rockville
, lying to Randy about everything except my sex.
Randy was twenty-nine, male, and lived in Rockville, if he weren't lying, too.
Got breasts?
He wanted to know.
A/s/l were the last keystrokes I ever sent in Randy's direction, but my dance card was far from empty. In just five minutes more than ten guys had PM'd Candy. I played along with one guy for a while, abbreviating willy-nilly and using words I had learned such as
kewl
and
lol
. When he started to get personal, though, asking whether I shaved “down there,” I groaned and turned to Erika. “What do I say now?”
“Type POS,” she said. “Parent Over Shoulder.”
“Jeeze,” I said, typing. I remembered that I'd first heard the term POS from Chloe, and she'd gotten it from her friend Sammy. I hoped it was innocent Internet slang passed down to an unsuspecting Sammy by an older sibling, but at least Chloe wouldn't be visiting with Sammy and playing on any questionable websites while she stayed with us.
“I wouldn't recommend pursuing that chat,” Erika said, “but I guarantee you that if one of our volunteers got a hold of that guy, he would be arranging to meet Candy in a few days' time.”
I logged out of Yahoo feeling dirty, like I needed to run the keyboard through the dishwasher set on scald.
“I don't imagine I'll be able to face Roger, but I will talk to Eva about him.”
“Mother! How can you even go back to that church?” Emily's breath was hot against my cheek.
“Eva's my friend. I can't tell you how helpful she's been to me since Timmy disappeared.”
Emily ignored me. “Erika, tell me how I can help with PredatorBeware. Do you think I could learn to be a decoy?”
“Emily!” I couldn't believe my daughter had volunteered for stressful work like that.
The look Emily sent me was pleading. “But what else can I do? Nothing is happening, and now the FBI thinks that the person who took Timmy did it because they wanted to keep him! There's no ransom demand. The tip calls are going to 1-800-TheMissing, and our phone just sits there, mocking me! I have to do something, and helping to get a pedophile off the street is a very good start.”
I found myself agreeing. Eva was my friend, but I owed Roger nothing. I thought about watching
Cross Current
, and about what I'd just seen, and felt I needed to do a bit of outing myself. “I don't think there's any connection, but Roger was in the parking lot at Paradiso on the day Timmy disappeared. He'd come to apply for a job.”
“Mother! Roger could have taken Timmy!”
“He didn't have Timmy when I saw him, Emily, and that was
after
we sounded the alarm.”
“Timmy could have been drugged, and hidden in Haberman's trunk!”
“Emily, think! He'd have to get by the police roadblock.”
“Maybe he had an accomplice, then,” Emily continued. Lord, my daughter was hard to turn.
“Let me weigh in here,” said Erika. “We know Roger is involved with children for sex. It doesn't take much stretching of the imagination to⦔ She paused, as if weighing what to tell me and what not. “Oh, hell. For all we know, Roger's been flying back and forth to Bangkok for years, paying to have sex with children. Maybe he can no longer afford the airfare.”