“Quit looking at me as if I’m a goner. I’ll be back in the office sooner than you think.”
“You better be,” she said before heading for the exit.
CHAPTER TEN
It was five minutes after ten when Sawyer walked into the conference room at work. Lexi Holmes was already seated at the rectangular table, surrounded by papers and a three-ring binder. “You’re late.”
Ignoring her, Sawyer took a seat, reached into her bag for her own file and notebook, and set it on the table in front of her.
Lexi leaned forward and handed Sawyer a piece of paper. “I think it would be a good idea if we talk to the victims of the Black Wigs. We need to make it clear to the community that what these vigilantes are doing is wrong.”
“We don’t know if that’s true,” Sawyer said.
Lexi’s hand went to the base of her throat. “Cutting off Brad Vicente’s appendage was the right thing to do?”
“Well,” Sawyer said, “the man is in prison for doing unspeakable things to women whose names we still don’t know.”
“I’m not sure I understand exactly what you’re trying to say.”
“I’m saying it’s possible, if not probable, that the Black Wigs were victims at one time. It’s a well-known fact that only five out of every thousand rapists go to—” Sawyer stopped herself. No need to give her opinion. Opinions were like assholes . . . everyone had one. “Although we must remain unbiased, I would like to write about this from the vigilantes’ point of view.”
Lexi’s gaze was fixated on the pen she kept tapping against the table.
When Lexi failed to say anything, Sawyer added, “Clearly, the vigilantes are going about it all wrong, but what I want to know, as I’m sure many readers would too, is why the Black Wigs are doing this. These men are being chosen for a reason. And so far, their attacks were carefully planned.”
“How can you be so sure?” Lexi asked.
“Because otherwise the Black Wigs would be in jail already. Take Brad Vicente as an example. It would require organization and preparation to kidnap a man, keep him tied up in his own home, then cut off his dick and escape unseen.”
“Are you open to giving our readers the whole picture?” Lexi asked.
“Do you mean let our readers see what’s going on through the lens of both the vigilante and the victim? Of course.”
“Good.” Lexi handed Sawyer a piece of paper. “I’ll handle the story from the perspective of the Black Wigs’ victims.” She gestured toward the paper in front of Sawyer.
Sawyer studied the names: Brad Vicente, Otto Radley, Myles Davenport, and Nick Calderon. Beneath every name was the date and place of birth, social security number, schooling, and employment information, if any, and names of friends and relatives, including phone numbers and addresses.
“I want to handle the Nick Calderon case.”
“But he’s a victim of the Black Wigs,” Lexi said.
“I don’t think so.”
Lexi straightened in her chair. “I talked to Detective Perez over the phone. The person seen on the security camera was wearing a black wig. Can you explain that?”
“I think it’s a copycat.”
Lexi looked as if she wanted to say something but was holding back. She finally angled her head and said, “You’re a real go-getter, aren’t you?”
Sawyer said nothing.
“Just because you’re not afraid to get out there and talk to people, doesn’t always mean that you should.”
“Why not?” Sawyer asked.
“Because you tend to step on people’s feet. People who matter. People like Detective Perez. He doesn’t appreciate you getting in the way. Up until now, you’ve been lucky. It’s as simple as that.”
Sawyer knew Lexi was talking about her involvement in a recent case concerning a string of missing girls. “I don’t believe hard work and long hours has anything to do with luck.”
Lexi went back to tapping the end of the pen against the table. Her brow furrowed as she met Sawyer’s gaze. “So we’ll split this Black Wigs story right down the middle. I’ll tell it from the victims’ side . . . except for Nick Calderon . . . and you tell it from the vigilantes’ side.” There was a pause before she added, “It’s your career on the line, not mine.”
“You don’t think it’s reasonable to assume that the women who make up the Black Wigs might have been abused by the men they have chosen to go after?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to ever assume.”
“Aren’t you curious to know why these women are doing what they’re doing? Don’t you want to know how society got to the point where young girls are imitating the Black Wigs on social media?”
Lexi sighed.
“What?”
“When it comes to telling the story, I’ll remain unbiased. But do you want my honest opinion about all this?”
“I do.”
“The Black Wigs are nothing more than thugs. Nobody should take the law into their own hands. It’s not up to them to punish these men, no matter the circumstances.”
“It’s happening, though, and I think it’s pretty clear that people are mimicking the Black Wigs out of frustration. Rapists are ruining lives and getting away with it.”
Lexi didn’t look impressed.
“Every day,” Sawyer went on, “somewhere in the world, a doctor sedates and then assaults a patient. A coach takes advantage of a student and is never arrested. Just last week, a young high school girl in Sacramento was raped. She reported the assault immediately. Nothing was done to the boy who attacked her.”
Sawyer took a calming breath. “You focus on the victims, and I’ll concentrate on the Black Wigs, The Slayers, and every woman out there who has been victimized. But nothing you write gets published until I give approval. We’re doing this story my way. If you want out, now would be the time to say so.”
Lexi sat back in her chair. “I’m in.”
“Good. I’m going to start by interviewing the women who filed complaints and/or brought the men on your list to court years ago. Then I’ll move on to anyone who knows the abusers—friends, coworkers, neighbors, and family.”
“That’s a lot of people to talk to.”
“Is that a problem?”
“It could be. The Black Wigs story is huge right now. Everyone is talking about them. We need to get something out there. Pronto.”
Sawyer shook her head. “If we rush it, it’ll look like every other hack story out there. It might take some time, but we’re going to do this right.”
“Fine,” Lexi said. “There’s one more thing we need to discuss.”
“Okay.”
“We have an appointment at the California State Prison, Sacramento, at noon.”
Sawyer wondered how she was able to arrange an interview in such a short amount of time, but she didn’t say anything since she wanted to avoid the whole I’m-a-pro speech.
Lexi glanced at her watch with its gleaming yellow-gold band. “Meet me in the lobby in forty-five minutes. We’ll drive together. My car.”