Chapter 3

Tara was at work, keeping one eye on the abuse queue, and one on the Backstreet Boys chatroom. The freak was back, he'd recreated his account, and had once again scared enough girls that she had piles of abuse reports to go through. But he wasn't in the chatroom, not just then anyway.

"Since when do you hang out in chat?"

The voice by her ear startled her, and she yanked off her headphones to glare up at Tommy. "Since now. What do you want?"

"Just to say hi," Tommy bounced around her cubicle, picking up her action figures and playing with them. "Want to play a game?"

"No."

"Nintendo? I got Conker…"

"No."

"Come on, it's fun."

"No."

"Mario Kart?"

"I said no," Tara rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her computer screen.

"Game Boy? I got my link cable…"

"Tommy, no."

"I'm compiling, I can't do anything else," he sat on her desk and swung his feet, making her computer shake. "Talk to me."

Tara frowned and clicked through some more abuse reports. She turned around to look at Tommy, an idea forming in her head. "Hey, you can access the user database, can't you?"

Tommy stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, "I don't work on it, just on the packets it sends out. So nope, I can't."

"What about the chat server?"

"That I can get to. Why?"

"Can you get me an IP?"

Tommy's eyes narrowed, "who's IP?"

"This guy who's been threatening the Backstreet Boys. I want to see where he's coming from."

"Sure, I guess," he shrugged. "Don't see why you care, though."

"Something horrible's going to happen, I know it," Tara said forlornly. "I can't just sit by and watch."

"He on now?"

She shook her head, "nope. I'm waiting for him to log in."

"Well, when he does, let me know, I'll grab the IP for you."

"Thanks."

"No problem." Tommy bounced back over to his cubicle, the floor shaking as he went. "Compile, dammit!" He yelled at his computer.

Tara laughed, and slid her headphones back on. Engineers. Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em.

********************************************************

After work, Tara went to the beach. She needed some time to think, to calm down and relax, and get control of her thoughts, and the beach was always perfect for that.

She found a parking space without too much trouble, and got out of her car, leaving her shoes and socks inside. She walked to the pier and down to the sand, sitting down and stretching out. Now this, this was heaven, she thought to herself. Definitely the best thing about living in LA…the close proximity of the beach.

"I've been watching you, you've been watching me."

The line popped into her head, and she pondered its meaning. His clue. The guy had said it was a line from a song. Which song? Who's song? The Backstreet Boys, most likely, but she didn't know their music well enough to figure out which one. And how could a song tell them when he was going to hurt them anyway?

The Backstreet Boys were going to be here in LA in two days, for the party being thrown by The Firm. Andy was nearly giddy with excitement, apparently knowing he was in the same building as them would be close enough for him.

"They're just pretty boys," she mumbled to herself, lying down and closing her eyes. Silly pretty boys, who somehow managed to invoke such strong emotions in people. Andy, with his love for AJ; the girls in chat, spending all night talking gibberish about the boys; and of course, this guy, who hated them so much he wanted to destroy them. Howie, AJ, Kevin, Nick, Brian. She hadn't even known their names until a few weeks ago, but now….she could see their faces when she closed her eyes, and worried about them with her every breath.

Why did she bother caring so much, she wondered. After all, they were just a silly pop group. If they had such good security, why didn't they stop this guy on their own?

As soon as she thought about the question, she knew the answer. Because they probably didn't know. Only SHE knew.

"I don't want to know!" She whispered angrily to herself. She wasn't a heroine, at least not in real life. In her games, she saved the world a thousand times over, from alien races, from evil lords of destruction, from all sorts of things. But those were just games, not her life. Who the hell gave this guy the right to make her the one who had to do something?

She sat up and looked out at the water, squinting against the glare of the setting sun. She wasn't overreacting either, she was becoming more sure of that as the days went on. The crazy ones, the guys who were just trying to invoke a reaction in people, they weren't this organized, this detailed. They would just say 'I'm going to kill you,' and leave it at that.

Not, "you love your money and the things you buy with your money. Your money will burn you, and you will never have felt such physical pain before in your life. Emotional will come later. That is your warning."

He was so detailed, yet so cryptic. Money burning. Alcohol hurting. Love destroying. And the list went on. He'd clearly thought about each of the guys, thought long and hard about how he wanted to get to them. It was awful.

And she couldn't tell a soul. "Dangerous precedent my ass," she grumbled, wrapping her arms around her waist as a chill crept over her. She understood the need to protect their user's rights, she did, she was as much of a champion of freedom of speech and the right to privacy as anyone. But….this was different.

Her contract kept her from telling the police too. Goddamn NDA. Non disclosure agreements were par for the course with a technology company, and she'd signed it when she was hired without thinking twice. But then again, she'd never imagined she would be in this position….

She shouldn't even be telling Andy all that she was about what this guy was doing. But of all people, she'd hoped that he would listen. She was wrong, of course, he thought she was overreacting, and she should probably stop talking to him about it. It wasn't like he could do anything, anyway….

Her eyes widened and she sat up straight, realizing what she had to do. Tell the Backstreet Boys themselves. THEY would listen.

Well, if they didn't think she was crazy.

She snorted, and shook her head, killing that idea right there. They would think she was nuts, some deranged fan who thought she was going to save them. Not quite the image she wanted to project…

So all she could do was wait and see. Hope nothing happened.

"I've been watching you, you've been watching me…."

With that line spinning through her head, and feeling as helpless as she had when she arrived, Tara got up and headed home. The beach hadn't worked its wonders on her today.

She had a feeling the beach wouldn't do much for her until she did something. What that something was, she didn't know. Something.

"I've been watching you, you've been watching me…."

**************************************************************

The Backstreet Boys sat in a conference room, all their eyes fixed on the FBI Agent who was explaining the way their investigation would work. "…and with the help of the profile, we will hopefully locate the person who has been sending these letters, and take action," Agent Melissa Palmer finished, looking around the room and meeting everyone's eyes evenly. "We will need your cooperation with this, though, you will have to stop opening letters you receive, any communication you even suspect is from this person, you need to send our way immediately."

"You keep saying we," Howie said, a frown on his face. "But there's only one of you here."

She laughed, and nodded, "my partner is back at Quantico, working on the profile."

"What do you have of the profile so far?" Kevin asked.

Agent Palmer's expression grew serious again, and she looked at Kevin as she spoke. "What we have is very preliminary at this point, mind you, but so far? The perp is between the ages of 20 and 40, most likely in a job that bores him. Repetitive work, requiring attention to detail, we see that same attention to detail in the letters he's writing. Probably a loner socially as well, maybe one or two close friends, but no romantic interest. He probably has never had a real serious relationship, some sort of sexual aggression's there, definitely, we're seeing that in his descriptions of what he wants to do to Kevin and AJ," she gestured. "Your wife's involvement in this, and the rape."

AJ shuddered, "gee, thanks."

"It's a guy?" Nick asked, "not some crazy girl?"

Agent Palmer shook her head, "no, we don't know if it's male or female at this point, I'm just using 'he' from force of habit, excuse me on that. That's part of what Bren's working on back at Quantico," she stopped when she saw the confused expressions on everyone's faces. "Agent Brendan Jackson is my partner, he's the best profiler there is. Figuring out gender is normally pretty simple, but in this case, it's proving to be a tricky issue."

"Why?" Kevin asked, his brow furrowing. "Most of our fans are girls, doesn't it stand to reason…"

"No, it doesn't," she interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Nothing 'stands to reason,' in this situation. You must understand we are dealing with someone who does not think the way you do, or I do. Reason, and logic, to them, is not the same as it is to you or me. It is figuring out how their mind works, and getting inside of it, that will give us the answers you are looking for."

"So all we can do is wait?" Brian asked softly, clearly shaken by her words.

"I'm afraid so," she replied. "You should be just fine, I don't want you to worry about your personal safety. This person is enjoying playing a game with you, and it's very clear that he WANTS you to be afraid. You can't be afraid if you're dead."

"Well, that's a relief," Nick said sarcastically.

"Morbid," Kevin frowned.

"But true," Agent Palmer said firmly. "When he kills you, the game's over. And he wants to play."

"Guys?" A man stuck his head in the room, looking at Kevin expectantly. "Party's started, we need you out there."

Kevin sighed and nodded. He stood up, extending his hand to Agent Palmer. "Thank you for coming out here to meet with us. If there's anything else we can do…"

"Just stay safe," she said, shaking his hand. "All of you. I will be in touch."

"Thanks. Now we have a party to get to," Kevin looked around at the group. "Ready?"

"Oh yeah, because don't we feel like having a party now," Brian grumbled, standing up slowly and stretching.

"Let's have a party!" AJ cracked, smacking Brian's hair playfully. "Come on, a couple drinks, and you'll be fine."

"Sure I will be," he said doubtfully.

"Drinking cures all ails."

"Drinking makes you forget all ails," Nick corrected.

"Same difference, Nicky, same difference."

************************************************************

Tara sat in the Backstreet Boys chatroom, wondering where the hell this guy was. She knew he was around, her day at work had been filled with abuse reports on him, but she still hadn't managed to catch him online yet. It was like he knew she was waiting to find him, just so she could get his IP.

"Like that'll tell me anything," she grumbled. She knew full well that knowing his IP could mean nothing, but she had to try, right?

"I've been watching you, you've been watching me."

Tara groaned as the line popped into her head, and smacked her computer impatiently. "Where are you, asshole!" She had the clue, and it meant NOTHING to her. What good was a clue if you couldn't figure out what it meant?

"Wait!" She sat up straight as she got an idea. She quickly typed the line into the chat, asking the girls if they knew what it was.

She watched as a flurry of gibberish passed by her screen, the usual mess of 'who's your favorite,' and 'they're all gay,' until one girl said, "Let's Have A Party."

"What??" Tara typed back, simultaneously hoping that was, and wasn't, the answer to her question. Not when it could mean…

"That's from Let's Have a Party," the response came back quickly.

Tara's breath caught in her throat as she stared at her computer in horror. The party.

Oh god. His first strike was going to be tonight.

And there was nothing she could do to stop him.

***************************************************************

"AJ, slow down," Kevin said in exasperation, watching the man down another shot of tequila.

"Fuck no," AJ banged his glass on the bar, yelling at the bartender for a refill. "I dunno about you, Train, but that Agent didn't do shit to make me feel better about what's going on."

"I'm with Bone, if anything, she just made me feel worse," Nick agreed. "If the FBI doesn't know what's going on, then nobody does."

"They'll figure something out," Kevin said confidently. "She said her partner's working on it."

"Yeah, well, still doesn't help us much right now," Brian said, shaking his head. "We're going off on tour, and this guy could be anywhere. We could be rolling into his home town next week, for all we know."

"You're gonna drive yourself nuts if you think that way," Howie said softly, touching Brian's shoulder. "We're fine."

"For now."

"Calm down…" AJ's word ended in a groan, and the glass in his hand went clattering to the bar as he doubled over. "Fuck," he cursed.

"AJ?" Kevin asked with alarm, bending down to look into his face. "What's wrong?"

"My stomach, god, fuck," AJ began breathing heavily, his eyes wide in pain. He stood up on shaky legs, before nearly falling over, both hands clutching the bar to keep him upright. "I need to get out of here," he panted, his face flushing bright red.

"We'll get you back to the hotel," Kevin slipped an arm around AJ's shoulder, as Nick did the same to his other.

"No, bathroom," AJ barely got the words out before he vomited, Howie and Brian jumping out of the way. "Sorry," he said weakly, without the strength to even curse what he'd done. Puking at a party. How uncool.

"Bathroom it is," Kevin and Nick quickly got AJ into the bathroom, and watched as he continued to throw up. Howie and Brian followed them in, watching AJ with concern.

"Kev, he don't look good," Nick whispered, his eyes widening when AJ began dry heaving, without anything left to lose in his stomach, but his body still trying to expel something.

"I know," Kevin said softly, chewing his bottom lip as he pondered what to do.

AJ finally let go of the toilet bowl he'd been huddled over and sprawled out on the bathroom floor, holding his stomach. "I didn't drink too much man, I know what that feels like," he said softly, groaning when his body cramped again. "Christ," he doubled over into the fetal position, crying out in pain. God this hurt. What the hell was wrong with him….

"Nick, go call an ambulance," Kevin said quickly.

"Kev? You sure?" Nick looked from Kevin to AJ curled up on the floor, then back to Kevin. AJ looked bad, but an ambulance meant publicity, which meant a world of embarrassment for AJ…

"Do it," Kevin said firmly. As Nick took off, he sat down next to AJ, wiping the sweat off of his forehead gently. "Just hang in there Bone, you're gonna be ok."

"I don't know, Kev, I never felt like this," AJ whispered, letting Kevin pull him into a hug as if he were a child.

"You're going to be ok," Kevin said again, rubbing AJ's back as he shuddered in pain. "I swear, you're going to be ok."

***

 

 

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