The Big Bad Wolf

get my goddess?
    There was a pause.
    No answer came from anyone.
    What was going on? I wondered.
    Of course U do, answered Wolf. Just be careful, Sphinx. Be very careful. We’re being watched.

Chapter 81
    I WASN’T SURE how to react to the Wolf, or his message to Sphinx. Should I speak now? Did he know we were on to him? How could he?
    Sterling 66: Now what’s your problem, Mr. Potter?
    This was my chance. I wanted to try and draw out Wolf if I could. But could I pull it off? I was aware that everyone was watching me in the operation room.
    I don’t have a problem, I typed. I’m just ready for another boy. U know I’m good for it. Haven’t I always been?
    Sterling 66: UR ready for another boy? U just recently received “Worcester.” About a week ago?
    I typed: Yes, but he’s left us.
    Sphinx 3000: That’s very funny. UR so cute, Potter. Such a cute psycho killer.
    Sphinx didn’t like Potter, did he? I had to assume the feeling was mutual. I typed, I love U too. We should get together and bond in person.
    Sterling 66: When U say “He’s left us,” I assume U mean that he’s dead?
    Mr. Potter: Yes, the dear boy passed. I’m over my grieving, though. Ready to move on.
    Sphinx 3000: Hilarious.
    This bickering was starting to get on my nerves. Who the hell were these sick bastards? Where were they? Besides cyberspace?
    I have someone in mind. I’ve been watching him for a while, I typed.
    Sphinx 3000: I’ll bet he’s gorgeous.
    I typed: Oh, he is. One of a kind. The love of my life.
    Sterling 66: U said that about Worcester. What city?
    I typed: Boston. Cambridge, actually. He’s a student at Harvard. Working for his doctorate. Argentinean, I believe. Rides polo ponies in the summer.
    Sterling 66: Where did U bump into this one, Potter?
    The next tidbit I’d gotten from Homer Taylor himself. Actually, I did bump into him. He’s so firm.
    Sphinx 3000: Where did you meet him? Tell, tell.
    I typed: I was at Harvard for a symposium.
    Sterling 66: On?
    I typed: Milton. Of course.
    Sterling 66: He was attending?
    I typed: No—I literally bumped into him. In the men’s room. I watched him for the rest of the day. Found out where he lived. Been studying him for three months.
    Sterling 66: So why did U purchase Worcester?
    I knew the question was coming. Impulse, I typed. Then, But this boy in Cambridge, that’s true love. Not a casual thing.
    Sterling 66: So U have a name? An address?
    I typed: I do. And I have my checkbook.
    Sterling 66: Worcester won’t be found? UR certain?
    I could hear Potter’s voice in my head as I typed. Good Lord, no. Not unless someone goes swimming in my septic tank.
    Sphinx 3000: Gross, Potter. I love it.
    Sterling 66: Well, if U have checkbook in hand.
    Wolf: No. We’ll wait on this. It’s too soon, Potter. We’ll get back to you. As always, I’ve enjoyed our talk, but I have other matters to attend to.
    Wolf signed off. He was gone. Shit. He’d come and gone just like that. The mystery man, as always. Who was this bastard?
    I stayed on-line, chatting with the others for a few minutes—expressing my disappointment at the decision, my eagerness to make a purchase. Then I left the site too.
    I looked around the operation room at my colleagues. A few began to clap, partly mocking me, but mostly it was genuinely congratulatory. Cop-to-cop stuff. Almost like old times. I felt marginally accepted by the others in the room. For the first time, actually.

Chapter 82
    WE WAITED TO HEAR from the Wolf’s Den. Everyone in the overcrowded room wanted to take the Wolf down in the worst way. He was a complicated and twisted criminal, but besides that, the FBI needed a win; a lot of people working their asses off needed it. Snaring the Wolf would be a tremendous victory. If we could just find him. And what if we could get all of the other sick bastards too?
Sphinx. ToscaBella. Louis XV. Sterling.
    Still, something was bothering me a lot. If the Wolf was as powerful and successful as he seemed to be, why was he involved in this at all? Because he’d always been into lots of kinds of crimes? Or because he was a sex freak himself? Was that it, the Wolf was a freak? Where could I go with that line of thinking?
    He’s a freak, and therefore . . . ?
    Except for a couple of hours when I went home to see the kids, I remained inside the Hoover Building for the next day and a half. So did a lot of other agents on the case, even Monnie Donnelley, who was as emotionally invested in this as