“This? It’s a microcassette recorder,” Josh said.
“Like from the Middle Ages?”
“Like from the days before people could hack into your phone. So let’s get started. I’m standing in a broom closet at Brooklyn Flea with a young woman and her mother who just came up and introduced themselves to me. Would you mind repeating everything you just told me, starting from the top?”
“All right. Umm. My name is—”
“Okay, stop,” Josh said. “Don’t use your real name. Who’s your favorite celebrity?”
“Beyoncé?”
“Great. We’ll call you Beyoncé.”
“All right,” the girl said, as though she suspected he might be insane. “My name is Beyoncé. I’m fourteen years old, and I live here in Brooklyn.”
“I just want to cut in for a moment to say that Beyoncé’s mother is here with us. Right, Mom?”
“Yes, that’s right,” said an older woman.
“Okay, Beyoncé. One more time.”
“Yeah, so I’m a big fan of your podcast. I listen to They Walk Among Us every week, and my mom and me went to see you live at the Bell House last year. Like I told you, I’m fascinated by serial killers, and something happened to me that I thought you’d want to hear about.”
“Tell me your story.”
“Yeah, so I was out on the island at the beginning of July visiting my friend—” She paused. “。 . . Kim Kardashian.”
“Good job,” Josh praised her. “No real names.”
“So Kim and I stayed late at the beach talking to some kids. Before we went home, she stopped to pee in the public restroom, and I waited outside in the parking lot. It was just getting dark when this man pulled up beside me.”
“What kind of car was he driving?”
“I dunno much about cars,” the girl said. “But it was black and nice. Anyways, he gets out and tells me he’s a police officer. He said someone had reported me for keying one of the cars in the lot. He told me I had to come with him to the station so the witness could ID me.”
“What did you say?”
“I figured he was full of it, so I said I wanted to see his ID. Mom told me that when a cop’s out of uniform, they have to show you their ID. But the guy wouldn’t do it. So I told him to go to hell.”
“And what did he do when you said that?”
“He grabbed my arm and tried to drag me to his car.”
“How’d you get away?”
“I kneed him in the nads just like Mom taught me. Then I ran into the restroom and banged on the door. My friend let me inside and we called her parents to come get us.”
The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Just a minute!” Josh Gibbon called out. “Did you recognize the man?” he asked the girl.
“Not when it happened. But the next day, I was watching TV and I saw him on an ad for Newsnight. He was the cop talking about the Danskammer Beach murders.”
“Hey!” someone shouted in the background. “You aren’t supposed to be in there!”
“Okay!” Josh shouted back. “Are you positive?” he asked the girl.
“Oh yeah. A hundred percent.”
“Thank you, Beyoncé. I have your number. I’ll call you this evening, and we’ll set up a studio date to record this for real.”