"In the anthrax case, the first person to die was a photo editor at a supermarket tabloid," Allison pointed out, "not a Tom Brokaw type. It was only later that they sent anthrax to ABC, CBS, and NBC. Cassidy, Jim told you he was being threatened. I talked to him, Nicole and I had set up a meeting for the day after he died, but he wouldn't give me any details. We need to know what he told you."
They stopped talking for a minute as the waitress brought their food: New York steak for Cassidy, king salmon for Allison, and arctic char for Nicole.
After the waitress left, Cassidy said,"He never said who he thought they were from, or even what was in therm. He just said he was getting threats and asked for your phone numbers."
"Do you know how they were delivered?" Nicole asked. "Through the mail, dropped off at the station, phone ... ?"
"E-mail, I think. And in the mail. But mostly e-mail." Cassidy cut a piece from her steak. She had ordered it rare, and Allison averted her gaze from the juices collecting on the plate. Some days she craved red meat; on others the very thought repulsed her.
Nicole said, "Did Jim try to find out what IP address they were sent from?"
"An IP address?" Cassidy took the last piece of bread from the basket and used it to mop up the juices from her steak. "That shows what computer you're using, right?"
"IP addresses are how we caught all those sick pervs who chatted me up when I was working Innocent Images," Nicole said.
Innocent Images was the FBI's cyber crime squad's effort to take down online predators. Nicole had spent hours pretending to be thirteen. Not surprisingly, Nicole's work on Innocent Images did not seem to have improved her view of men. Allison didn't know what had happened in the years since high school, but Nicole was now wary, even dismissive, of nearly all men. Only Leif had seemed to crack that hard shell.
"Each time you go to a Web site, your computer's IP address is recorded on its servers," Nicole said.
Cassidy said, "So once you have the address, then you know who sent something, right?"
"For most of the guys we tracked on Innocent Images, yes. They weren't that sophisticated. But sometimes it's not that simple. Say a computer is at a business. That business might share a handful of IP addresses, making it hard to link an e-mail to a single person. Or you can go to a library or Internet cafe, and send your e-mails from there. And if you really want to get tricky, there are programs called anonymous proxy servers that can hide your address."
"Isn't that illegal?" Cassidy asked, raising one eyebrow.
"No, it's not. Unfortunately." Nicole took a sip of wine. "But with a subpoena, we can get the information from the proxy server. Usually."
The waitress came over to their table just as Allison was taking her last bite of buttery salmon. "Is anyone going to want a dessert?"
"Of course," Allison answered with a smile. "We need your famous chocolate mousse. With three spoons."
After the waitress dropped off their dessert, Cassidy said, "All I know about the threats is that when Jim talked about them, he looked scared. And if you knew Jim--he was never scared. Nothing could rattle his cage."
"We found some threats at his home and office," Nicole said. Cassidy bit her lip. "Are any of them related to Brooke Gardner?"
Chapter 22
McCormick & Schmick's Harborside Restaurant
By the way her friends straightened up at the mention of Brooke's name, Cassidy knew she had hit pay dirt. She took advantage of their distraction to sneak an extra spoonful of mousse.
"Why?" Nicole asked. "Did he say anything about Brooke Gardner to you?"
Cassidy swallowed and then said, "He told me the family was angry at him. He felt bad about what had happened, sure, but at the time anyone would have put money on the idea that she had killed her own child. I mean, how many times have we seen that scenario? Kid disappears, and then the too-young mom says the babysitter took her, or she just turned around and the baby was gone. Only it always turns out that the story doesn't add up."
"Except that this time it did," Nicole said dryly.
Just looking at her made Cassidy feel guilty. "We both covered that case. Everybody did. The parents even called me right after Brooke killed herself." She remembered how sick she had felt, listening to their message. "They left me a voice mail calling me a jackal."
Allison picked up her pen and made a note. "Did you save it?"
"No. But I do have, transcripts of the story Jim did on her." She pulled her tote onto her lap and found the copies she had made earlier for each of them.
FATE: Now, a mother's worst nightmare. She tucks her 18-monthold into his crib, settles onto the sofa in the very next room for a video. When she returns to check on him, the baby is gone. Today, the search is on for 18-month-old Brandon Gardner-Tippets.
HANAWA: That's right, Jim. Police are telling us that Brooke Gardner put Brandon into his crib around 7 p. M., and when she went to check on him an hour later, he was gone and the window was open.