WEBCAM Read online

  WEBCAM

  Someone is stalking webcam models.

  He lurks in the untouchable recesses of the dark web.

  He’s watching you. Right now.

  When watching is no longer enough, he comes calling.

  He’s the last thing you’ll ever see before the blood gets in your eyes.

  Chicago Homicide Detective Tom Mankowski (THE LIST, HAUNTED HOUSE) is no stranger to homicidal maniacs. But this one is the worst he’s ever chased. Someone who uses your own Internet, WiFi, computer, and cell phone to watch you 24/7. Someone who knows your every call, every text, every email. Someone who wants to punish you for being bad.

  Jack Kilborn reaches into the depths of depravity and drags the terror novel kicking and cyber-screaming into the 21st century.

  WEBCAM

  I’m texting you from inside your closet. Wanna play? :)

  W E B

  C A M

  He’s watching you. Right now.

  JACK KILBORN

  CONTENTS

  Author’s Note

  Begin reading WEBCAM

  Other recommended titles

  Joe Konrath’s Complete Bibliography

  Sign up for the J.A. Konrath newsletter

  Copyright

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book takes place during the same timeframe as my mystery thriller novel RUM RUNNER, written as J.A. Konrath. It also happens concurrently with the humorous short story WATCHED TOO LONG, co-written with my frequent collaborator Ann Voss Peterson. Some characters, and situations, appear in all three stories, and they overlap and crossover with one another.

  You do not have to read all three books to find out what happens. Each of these can be read and enjoyed as a standalone. There are no spoilers.

  That said, it was an exciting challenge to write three stories that interweave, and I hope readers will enjoy this experiment. If you like WEBCAM, please give RUM RUNNER and WATCHED TOO LONG a try. This trilogy was a whole lot of fun to write.

  Also, the pronouns in the novel are all intentionally written that way. You’ll understand what I mean later.

  As always, thanks for reading.

  Joe Konrath

  CHAPTER 1

  TEN YEARS AGO

  “What do you need the blowtorch for, Daddy?”

  Kendal walked alongside her father, keeping one hand on his wire shopping cart. Her hand would stay there during the entire trip to Home Depot, or else Daddy would get mad.

  When he was mad, he wasn’t nice.

  “I need to use it in the basement.”

  “Oh.”

  Kendal wasn’t allowed in the basement. It had three locks on the door, and a ghost lived down there.

  At least, Kendal thought it was a ghost.

  Sometimes, when she walked past the door, she thought she heard noises.

  Other times she was sure she heard things.

  Chains clinking.

  Moans.

  Whimpers.

  “What’s in the basement, Daddy?”

  Her father stopped the cart. He stared down at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. Kendal wasn’t sure if the question made him angry or not. When Daddy was angry, his face always stayed calm.

  “The basement is off limits.”

  “I know.”

  “You can never go in there.”

  “I know.”

  “Never.”

  “I won’t, Daddy. It’s just that sometimes… I hear noises.”

  Daddy’s eye twitched. Then he squatted down, so he was Kendal’s height.

  “Can you keep a secret, Kendal?”

  She nodded. Kendal kept lots of secrets.

  Daddy looked around, like he was making sure they were alone. Nobody else was in the aisle. He leaned in close and whispered, “There’s a monster in the basement.”

  Kendal felt her tiny stomach get tight, like it was making a fist.

  “I thought… I thought monsters weren’t real.”

  “Most aren’t. But she is.”

  “It’s a girl monster?”

  Daddy nodded. “Her name is Erinyes.” He pronounced it erin-eeeees. “She’s a very bad monster, so I have to keep her locked up.”

  “Is she bad like Mommy?”

  Her father had left her mother, years ago. Kendal hardly remembered her, but Daddy told stories about how mean she was. She was so mean, that Daddy changed their last name so Mommy couldn’t ever find them.

  “She’s very bad, Kendal. She’s the worst of all monsters. Erinyes has red eyes, and great, black bat wings, and pointy sharp teeth like a cat. She wears a crown made of biting spiders. And she does terrible, terrible things.”

  Kendal felt like she had to pee. “What does Erinyes do?”

  “Erinyes punishes sinners.”

  “Sinners?”

  “Little girls who have been naughty.”

  “How?”

  Daddy stood and picked up a tool hanging on the rack. It looked like pliers, but with a funny-shaped top.

  “She heats up pincers like these in a fire. Until they’re red hot. Then she flays them alive.”

  “What does flay mean?” the ten-year-old asked.

  “It means to pull your skin off in strips.”

  “Yuck.”

  Her father dropped the tongs into his cart, on top of the chains, padlocks, and propane torch.

  “It’s a terrible thing to see,” Daddy said. “And the monster makes you watch.”

  “How?”

  “She cuts off your eyelids so you can’t close them.”

  Kendal closed her eyes, grateful she could, and tried not to think about how awful it would be without eyelids. But the more she tried not to think about it, the more she thought about it.

  “I’m scared, Daddy.”

  He rested his hand on her head, patting it. “Erinyes is very scary. That’s why I’ve locked her up.”

  Daddy began to walk again, and Kendal forced her eyelids open and tagged along with the cart. “What’s her name again? The monster?”

  “Erinyes. She is thousands of years old, formed from the blood of the titan, Uranus, when his son castrated him.”

  “What is castrated?”

  “Castrated is when a man’s genitals are cut off.”

  “What are geni—”

  Her father suddenly spun around and grabbed Kendal hard by the shoulders, giving her a rough shake. “Don’t you EVER mention genitals. Do you understand?”

  She fought back her tears and nodded as fast and hard as she could. Kendal knew this look in Daddy’s eyes; the look when he got so upset he didn’t act like Daddy anymore.

  “Genitals lead to fornication, which is the biggest sin of all. And if you sin, Erinyes comes for you. Do you want that monster to come for you?”

  Kendal shook her head no, fast as she could.

  “Even though I have her locked up, Erinyes is always watching you. Always. And she pays extra special attention to girls named Kendal. If you hear a strange sound at night, that’s her. A foot on the stairs? It’s her coming for you. A tapping at the window? It’s her staring at you. A scratching at your door? She’s there, trying to get in. And if you sin, she punishes you.”

  “I won’t say that word, Daddy.”

  His eyes softened. “That’s my girl.”

  He released her, and Kendal did her best not to cry as she followed him to the check-out aisle. Even so, she sniffled once, and quickly wiped her nose on her sleeve so her father didn’t see.

  So Erinyes didn’t see.

  When they got home, Kendal was immediately sent to her room and told to put on her headphones. Daddy set her iPod to High School Musical and told her to stay there and listen to the whole album without stopping.

  Kendal obeyed her father. And she didn’t m
ove, even though she was really, really scared.

  In between songs, Kendal was sure she heard noises.

  Coming from the basement.

  Kendal knew what it was.

  It was the sound of Erinyes, screaming.

  CHAPTER 2

  PRESENT DAY

  Men are assholes.

  Kendal Hefferton was sitting on the floor, decked out in slutty lingerie, too much make-up, and pumps with heels so high they were impossible to walk in, staring at the live image of her own cleavage in her laptop webcam and thinking about all the other ways she could be making money.

  It had been a slow night. She’d earned a little over eighty dollars, but it was close to three in the morning and she’d been at it since nine. Kendal could have made more waiting tables. Right now she had only one guy in her chat room. A regular who went by the name BigBoy6969. He’d be good for another ten bucks, then she’d probably quit for the night.

  Show me your ass SEXXYGRRL he typed into the chat box.

  Kendal, aka SexxyGrrl, got on all fours and turned around, wiggling her butt at the camera for the customer paying $2 a minute. Next he’d want her to take off her panties. Then her bra. Then touch herself. Then he’d be done, without so much as a goodbye or a thank you.

  At least she didn’t have to look at her clients, since she had the camera on her but they did not. Watching them jerk it would have been gross. That was the one thing to be thankful for.

  Actually, there was another thing to be grateful for. That creep who had been harassing her hadn’t shown up tonight. Maybe the sexcam service Kendal worked for finally listened to her complaints and banned his computer’s IP address. He’d been cyberstalking her for the last three days, always signing on with a new nickname. Sex chats were often vulgar, and profanity was expected, but this guy was seriously nuts. Just in case anything came of it, she’d saved screen captures of his last visit when he’s signed in as Tilphousia. Recalling the chat brought a shiver.

  TILPHOUSIA: aren’t you a cute one?

  SEXXYGRRL: thx! ☺ What do you want to do tonite! I’m soooo horny!

  TILPHOUSIA: do you like being a cam model?

  SEXXYGRRL: I luv it! I get to meet so many sexy guys, like u.

  TILPHOUSIA: you’re naughty.

  SEXXYGRRL: im vry naughty. Do you like my body?

  TILPHOUSIA: You need to be punished.

  SEXXYGRRL: I like spankings! :)

  TILPHOUSIA: I want to fuck you.

  SEXXYGRRL: that is sooo hot! Yr turning me on! Tell me how you like it.

  TILPHOUSIA: I want to fuck you hard.

  SEXXYGRRL: I want that so bad!

  TILPHOUSIA: I want to fuck you hard with a butcher knife.

  Kendal had to read that twice, but she couldn’t make sense of it.

  TILPHOUSIA: my knife will fuck you all over.

  This guy was seriously disturbed.

  TILPHOUSIA: I’m going to cut off your eyelids so you have to watch me do it.

  You’re a sinning whore and you must have Penance.

  I will slice out your guts and

  Kendal couldn’t kick the creep out of the chat room fast enough.

  What the hell was wrong with some people? Who could get off on sick shit like that?

  The modeling service she worked for was good about keeping out the creeps.

  Happily, BigBoy6969 was a longtime client.

  Like what you see, tiger? Kendal typed, wearing the fake smile that came with the job.

  Your soooo hot baby!!! Take off your panties.

  Kendal eased her panties down, making sure she went slowly. Not to tease him; this was simple economics. The longer he was online, the more money she made. Show him too much too fast and he’d blow his load and sign off. The goal was to make it last for as long as possible.

  My god I luv your ass. Its perfect. Im so hard right now.

  Kendal was impressed. Not that he was hard—that was to be expected—but at how fast he could type with just one hand.

  I like it hard, she typed.

  Its throbing. all becuss of you. ten throbbing inches baby.

  A genuine smile formed on Kendal’s lips. She’d been a webcam model for just under a year, and she’d never had a client less than ten inches long. BigBoy6969 was probably five inches, tops. From his frequent grammar errors and misspellings, she guessed him to be blue collar, maybe a factory worker. Either too fat or ugly to have a girlfriend, or still married to his high school sweetheart who stopped blowing him a decade ago.

  Stop talking like that, Kendal typed. You’re turning me on REAL BAD, bigboy. And I’m all alone with no one to fuck me.

  YOUR SO HOT. Take off your bra.

  Kendal removed it slowly, her eye on the clock. Three minutes so far. Six bucks. She was still fifty dollars short on rent this month, and it was due in two days. She loved her Chicago apartment, and was able to afford it without needing a roommate, barely.

  Kendal wondered if she should take her sexcam work to the next level. Other girls made more money, and got more regulars, by doing more extreme things. Kendal limited what she did to nudity and touching herself. If she used toys, she could make more. Or if she allowed sound and spoke with clients rather than responding by typing. Or if she took her laptop into the bathroom. Apparently some weirdos liked to watch women pee, and were willing to pay extra for that.

  But those things seemed too… well… personal.

  Kendal knew thinking like that was hypocritical, and silly. Workers in this business were called models, but this was closer to stripping or prostitution than posing for magazine pics or walking down a fashion runway. She took off her clothes and touched herself, for money. Why not go a bit farther and make more? What was the big moral issue?

  Maybe she should join another chat service. Instead of being paid by the minute, other sites worked on a tip basis using virtual coins. For five coins she’d strip. For ten coins she’d touch herself. There would still be the problem of waiting around for clients—that was the main problem with this business, the waiting around—but at least it would be something different.

  You told me you were alone and didn’t have a boyfriend.

  That’s true, Kendal typed. And it was. Since taking up this profession, Kendal began to dislike men more and more. She had enough of them online.

  BigBoy6969: So you have a roommate?

  No. It was always risky telling clients too much, because some of them could get a little obsessive and stalker-ish. But she usually told the truth when asked non-threatening questions, mostly because it was too hard to keep track of lies.

  You live alone and don’t have a boyfriend or a roommate.

  BigBoy seemed kinda stuck on this. But if he wanted to talk about her living situation instead of whack off, it was his dime.

  I’m all alone here, with no man at ALL, she typed.

  So who is that standing behind you?

  What?

  Kendal spun around as a figure in a black ski mask rushed at her. As she opened her mouth to scream, a cold, foul-smelling towel was pressed against her face. The intruder fell atop her, and when Kendal tried to breathe her vision got blurry.

  Another breath, and she realized she was losing consciousness.

  Her eyes sought out her laptop, at BigBoy6969, hoping he was calling the moderators, telling them what was going on, and that was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.

  • • •

  Kendal awoke tied to her bed, her arms and legs secured to all four posts with duct tape, a gag in her mouth. The intruder was naked, standing next to the bed, staring down at Kendal. She noticed the butcher knife and screamed.

  “Do you know who I am?” the intruder asked.

  Kendal shook her head. She couldn’t take her eyes off the knife.

  “I know who you are. You’re Kendal. And you’re very, special.”

  Another frantic head shake. Kendal remembered the webcam. Hoped that the police would be here soon.


  “I’m Erinyes. You’re a slut and a sinner, Kendal. So I’m here to punish you. Just like I promised.”

  Kendal screamed in her throat when she saw the tiny, sharp pair of cuticle scissors coming toward her eyes.

  “Now let’s get rid of those eyelids. It would be a shame for you to miss anything…”

  CHAPTER 3

  Tom Mankowski’s eyelids flipped open at the sound of his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand next to the bed. He squinted at the clock.

  4:03 A.M.

  Someone in his District had died. And it had to be someone important, or an exceptionally ugly death, or else they would have called someone else. Tom had taken a week off to spend time with his girlfriend, who slept soundly next to him. She was visiting from L.A., and Tom had turned his ringer to vibrate so it wouldn’t wake her up, on the off chance someone called.

  “Your phone is vibrating,” Joan said. She sounded annoyed.

  “Sorry.”

  It vibrated again, rattling the nightstand. In hindsight, ringing might have been quieter.

  “Are you going to answer it?”

  “I’m on vacation.”

  “So why didn’t you turn the phone off completely?”

  Damn. She had him there.

  “Did you turn your phone off completely?” he asked. When cornered, attack.

  “I did.”

  “What if some big shot actor calls? Or a studio?”

  Joan was a movie producer. Tom had grown to accept the fact that at any moment, no matter where they were, she would answer the phone. Once, while they were in the middle of making love, she took a call from Catherine Zeta-Jones without them actually stopping. Joan’s end of the conversation mostly amounted to grunts of agreement or moans of disagreement. Tom pretended to be annoyed, but it was actually pretty hot.

  Another tremor rattled the nightstand.

  “If someone calls my assistant will handle it. Jesus, Tom, pick up the phone already.”

  Tom sat up. “I’ll take it in the other room so I don’t disturb you.”

  “I’m already disturbed, lover.”

  Yikes. Joan only called him lover when she was really pissed. Tom knew it was an attempt to mask her anger with patience, but it always came out as biting and sarcastic.