Extreme Justice: A Ben Kincaid Novel of Suspense

Chapter 11

THE INSTANT THE LED on his digital clock read 12:00, Jones logged onto the Net. An instant later, he booted up his chat software and created a private room on Channel 365.

And waited. And waited.

Where was she? he began to wonder. Was it all a mistake? Or perhaps some cruel joke?

The minutes on his digital clock continued to click past. Five minutes past, then ten. Jones stared at the blank computer screen, overwhelmed with disappointment. Half an hour past, then an hour …

Panic began to set in. He had never asked where she lived. He had assumed she lived in Tulsa, but it wasn’t necessarily so. What if she lived in a different time zone? If she lived in California, she wouldn’t expect to keep a midnight appointment for two more hours. Or—

Chills radiated down his spine. If she lived in New York, she would have logged on an hour ago, expecting to find him, but instead finding nothing. Thinking she had been stood up. Thinking he was just another jerk after all, no better than Cobblepot or PilotBob.

Or there was another possibility. Maybe she had stood him up. Maybe she had come to her senses, become frightened. Who could blame her? What did she know about him, anyway? For all she knew, he was just another semiliterate computer geek. Maybe she decided to go offline and see if she could have a real life …

PAULA1>Are you there?

Jones nearly jumped out of his desk chair. She was here! She was here!

Scrambling as fast as possible, he began to type. In his panic, he screwed his message up the first time, then had to delete and try again, then messed it up again. He inhaled deeply and slowly corrected his typos.

FINGERS>I’m here. And I’m glad you’re here with me. (meaningful pause) I see you’ve changed your online moniker.

PAULA1>(hapless shrug) I thought it was time to come out of the closet. So to speak.

FINGERS>ROTFL!(hesitant confession)I was afraid you wouldn’t come.

PAULA1>I admit I had some second thoughts. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of reading your online profile.

Jones felt the air rush out of his lungs. She read his profile! But he had written that months ago, the first time he ever logged into a chat room. He was just pretending, fantasizing. He had never really expected anyone to read it, much less …

FINGERS>I hope nothing there put you off.

PAULA1 >No! It was fascinating. Especially your detective work.

Jones’s heart thudded to the bottom of his chest. What have I done?

PAULA1>I think that sounds incredibly exciting! Cruising the mean streets, being your own boss, answering to no one and nothing but your own personal sense of justice. Is it as thrilling as it sounds?

FINGERS>It has its moments.

PAULA1>Tell me about some of your most exciting cases.

Jones’s mouth went dry. He’d asked for this, he supposed—pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Maybe if he came clean right now before it got any worse.

FINGERS>Look … I don’t want to mislead you in any way.

PAULA1>Oh, no. Don’t tell me you lied in your profile. I hate it when men do that. :(

Jones felt his head getting light. He’d been daydreaming about this chat all day, and now that it was finally here, it was slipping away from him. He couldn’t bear to blow it now. But he knew that as soon as she learned his profile was a portfolio of lies, she’d snap off her modem in a heartbeat.

FINGERS>No, nothing like that. I just didn’t mention—I don’t work alone.

PAULA1>You don’t?

FINGERS>Not exactly. I work with another private investigator. And with a lawyer. Sometimes we work on cases together.

PAULA1>That makes sense. I suppose they refer investigations to you. And you refer clients to them.

FINGERS>Yes, that’s it. Exactly.

PAULA1>But you’re still your own boss. That would be so wonderful! (swooning) Self-employment—that’s my dream. I’m a librarian, and unless I come into a fortune and buy my own library, I’m always going to be working for someone else.

FINGERS>You’re a librarian!

PAULA1>Very boring.

FINGERS>I love librarians. They’re my favorite people.

PAULA1>Really! :)

FINGERS>Yes. Always have been. Always will be.

PAULA1>You must love books, too. I know you’re very well read. That was what first caught my attention.

FINGERS>But how did you know?

PAULA1>Because you quoted both Lao-Tzu and Lord Byron when you were chatting with those morons on the Wild Side.

FINGERS>You noticed?

PAULA1>Of course I noticed. I noticed everything.

After that, there was no stopping them. They spent the next hour discussing their favorite books, poets, films. Paula favored Emily Dickinson and, after a brief childhood flirtation with Rod McKuen, W. H. Auden. Jones preferred Walt Whitman and, nowadays, W. S. Merwin. It seemed they had read all the same books, and loved or hated them in precise correspondence. They agreed on everything.

Around two A.M. Jones decided to take the plunge.

FINGERS>Paula … I want you to know how much I’ve really really enjoyed talking to you.

Almost a minute elapsed before her answer appeared. Jones felt the panic rippling up his back, felt the burning sensation under his collar. Had he pushed too hard? Gotten too forward too fast? His fingers trembled as he waited for her response.

PAULA1>I’ve really enjoyed talking to you too, Fingers.

He rapid-fired his response.

FINGERS>My friends call me Jones.

PAULA1>Oh! (touched and humbled) Thank you for trusting me with your true name. Thank you very much.

FINGERS>(confession)I was so worried when you didn’t log on at twelve.

PAULA1>I’m sorry, Jones. I got here as soon as I could. The most amazing thing happened to me tonight. You see, I was at this jazz club on the North Side …