“So content is unknown,” Bree said.
“Um.” Rory blushed bright red. “Sheriff, I have something else to show you.” He moved back to the laptop he’d been examining when they’d walked into the room. “We found some pictures on Oscar’s laptop.”
Curious, Bree bent closer. “What kind of pictures? Anything like the one I received last night?”
“No, ma’am,” Rory said. “These are different.”
Oscar couldn’t have sent that one anyway, thought Bree. He’d already been killed.
Matt stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.
Rory tapped the keyboard, waking up the laptop. The screen brightened to show a grid of photos. They were all pictures of a naked woman—with Bree’s face on them.
Shock snapped Bree to full attention. “What are those?”
“It’s not you,” Rory blurted out. “I could tell the images had been edited immediately. Someone combined pornography with publicly available photos of you.”
“I know it’s not me.” Bree fell back a step, as if trying to put distance between herself and the images on the computer screen. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? People will believe that it is.” She paused. “I receive so many nasty messages. I thought I’d seen it all.” But nothing could have prepared Bree for seeing her face on another woman’s nude body.
“Have you received anything like this before?” Matt asked. “The dick pic was bad enough, but this . . .”
“Not exactly.” Bree waved a hand toward the screen. “I’ve received pictures of me with my face X-ed out. Others have insults written on the images. Some are just words. They range in mood from God will strike you down to you’re a whore. Did you find any of those previous images on Oscar’s computer?”
“No, ma’am,” Rory said. “I checked. When I saw the fake pictures, I immediately wondered if Oscar had been the one harassing you.”
“Oscar couldn’t have sent the one from last night,” Bree said. “He was already dead.”
Matt frowned, his expression cold as he turned back to Rory. “Can you see what else he did with the photos? Seems to be a lot of work just to embarrass Sheriff Taggert.”
“We’re still digging through his email, but we know he uploaded the photos directly to some social media sites.” Rory jabbed a finger toward the computer. “I’m sorry to say it gets even worse. He shared a deepfake video that replaced a porn star’s face with yours.”
Bree’s heart sank and chilled like it had hit an iceberg.
“Most deepfake videos are pornographic,” Rory said. “In fact, the huge majority are celebrity faces mapped over porn stars’. Ma’am”—his voice sounded apologetic—“a few days ago, he sent that video to porn sites all over the internet.”
As if to punctuate his point, Rory clicked on a button. A video played. Shame heated Bree’s face. She had no reason to be embarrassed. The video wasn’t her, which anyone close to her would know. But it didn’t matter. She felt exposed anyway. It felt real.
“Did Oscar make that video?” Bree asked.
“Not on this machine.” Rory tapped on the screen. “There’s no sign of the software or working files. But we can tell it’s a manipulated video. For one, she doesn’t blink, and that’s because most photographs are taken with people’s eyes open. The software that was used isn’t good enough to simulate blinking. Also, the skin tones are patchy. The lips don’t sync with the sounds, and you can see some flickering around the edges of your face. But whoever did this was smart enough to use the same porn actress in all the fake photos and the video. She’s about your size and superficially believable.”
Oscar hadn’t chosen an actress with H-size breasts or some other glaring physical feature that would clearly indicate she wasn’t Bree.
Rory clicked on “Stop” and the video froze. He closed the laptop.
“We’ll need a list of all the specific websites where Oscar sent the video.” Matt turned to Bree. “You’ll need to send out takedown orders to each individual site.”
The ramifications of what Oscar had done speared Bree like an arrow. “Did he have fake videos and images of anyone else?”
Rory touched the laptop. “Not on this computer.”
So it was revenge solely directed against Bree.
“I’ll send you that list of sites.” Rory wrote on a sticky note. “But”—his shrug conveyed pointlessness—“the files get shared over and over. Copies multiply like viruses. The chances of getting rid of them all . . .”
Bree finished his thought. “Once something is on the web, it’s nearly impossible to completely purge it.”
Rory nodded. “You should get a lawyer and sue the ever-loving crap out of everyone who knowingly posts it. Deepfakes and revenge porn are on the rise. The overwhelming majority of it is directed against women. It’s appallingly effective at ruining their lives.”
Matt collected some information from Rory while Bree stood still, processing the video. She was numb. They thanked Rory and left the lab. Bree walked the corridors in a daze. The video felt like more of a violation than when she’d been shot.
Her bullet wound had healed. She might never recover from this.
Behind the wheel of her SUV, she turned to Matt. “Oscar and I clashed. He didn’t like me from the beginning. But to go through all this trouble to punish me . . . that’s a whole new level of hate.”
“What he did was horrible. I never liked him, but I didn’t know the extent of his cruel streak.”
She could tell people the photos and video were fake until she turned blue. Who would believe her? Oscar’s hoax could be the end of Bree’s career.
CHAPTER TEN
Matt seethed. He wanted to punch Oscar in the face for what he’d done to Bree. Too bad he was already dead.
Bree started the engine, her face pale. “The fakes were Oscar’s version of revenge porn, right? He wanted to humiliate me and maybe even make sure I don’t get reelected.”
Matt thought she was right about Oscar’s motive. “Before you came along, he did whatever he liked, including enlisting his fellow deputies to harass his ex. You took him down.”
“Let’s not get off track. The fake porn is bad, but it seems to be directed only at me. So, there’s no evidence that it’s related to his murder.” Bree paused. “Are any of the deputies still close to Oscar?”
Matt shook his head. “No. The deputies who were part of the old guard left.”
“Do you know where they are now?”
“No. They haven’t kept in touch. I was never really in the boys’ club.” Matt had long suspected the former sheriff had intentionally put him in the way of friendly fire for that very reason.
“What about Jim Rogers?” Bree asked. “Was he one of the boys?”
“He was.”
“He’s been out on disability, but he worked with Oscar for a long time. He might know something relevant about his life.”
Rogers was a former deputy who had been shot in the line of duty back in the spring. He’d recovered from his injuries, but continuing issues with post-traumatic stress prevented him from returning to work. Rogers had also been one of the men who’d accidentally shot Matt in the friendly fire incident, and that incident had scarred them both. Rogers had apologized to Matt, but there was still awkwardness between them.
“Have you seen him recently?” She glanced at him.
“I ran into him about a month ago in town. We didn’t say much more than hi. How about you?”
Bree shook her head. “I get official notifications on his disability status. That’s it, but then, I don’t know him very well. He didn’t work for me for long before he was shot.”
“Do you want to call him into the station or talk to him at his home?” Matt asked.
Bree’s brow furrowed. “At his home, I think. He’ll talk more where he’s comfortable.”
“He’s north of town.” Matt looked up the address and entered it in the GPS.
Fifteen minutes later, as they approached the property, Matt spotted a driveway marked by a red mailbox shaped like a barn. “There it is.”