“Victoria Ford wasn’t one of them?”
“No,” Walt said. “First, Victoria was never formally convicted, so there’s nothing to overturn. And second, sadly, without a conviction no one really cares about it.”
“I care.”
“I know you do.”
“And Emma Kind cares.”
“I know that, too. And she’s lucky to have you digging through the case. I just wanted to give you the full picture as to why the files I showed you yesterday didn’t tell the whole story. This box”—Walt pointed at the table—“had been in the DA’s possession until the US Attorney’s Office subpoenaed all of Greenwald’s files. They took a hard look at each of them, but passed on digging into the case against Victoria Ford. The Southern District of New York shipped this box back to the BCI, where it has sat for years. And now, as I root back through the details, I can’t help thinking that for such a high-profile homicide, I was tapped early on to run the investigation. Maggie Greenwald requested me. At the time, I was honored. I thought I’d made such an impression that she picked me for my talent. But a little time and perspective tells me that maybe she picked me because I was young and green, and because she could manipulate me in ways another, more experienced detective would not have allowed.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Walt. You followed the evidence, and no one can fault you for that. You didn’t plant evidence. And you certainly didn’t suppress it. The crime scene you found led to Victoria Ford. Not by hunch, not by speculation, but by forensically backed evidence. You didn’t make any mistakes. You didn’t manipulate the evidence.”
“No. But I’m wondering if I was manipulated. This case went up in smoke after 9/11, and when the dust settled, everyone had moved on. Soon after, I was recruited into the FBI and I never really put much thought into it after that. But now, twenty years later, with the things you and I have uncovered, I’m starting to wonder if a dead woman was branded a killer when, in fact, she was innocent.”
The narrative that twenty years earlier an aggressive district attorney had focused on the wrong woman in the death of Cameron Young was starting to play out in Avery’s mind. She had no way to prove who had killed Cameron Young, only that there was a very realistic possibility it was not Victoria Ford. Avery knew her viewing audience would salivate over every detail. And things were about to get even juicier.
Walt gathered the files and the photos and returned them to the box.
“There’s one more thing I came across in this box of lost evidence,” Walt said, holding up a plastic evidence bag. It held a thumb drive.
“What is it?”
“The sex video of Cameron Young and Victoria Ford.”
CHAPTER 47
Manhattan, NY Sunday, July 4, 2021
“IT’S BEEN TWENTY YEARS,” WALT SAID, HOLDING UP THE EVIDENCE bag. “But I still remember it vividly.”
“I’ve got to see it,” Avery said.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. I need to see if any of it can be aired in prime time.”
“From what I remember, you’ll need to blur most of it out.”
“I’ve got a really good technical crew and an even better producer.”
“Grab your laptop.”
Avery retrieved her laptop from the desk where she had positioned it earlier in the day for her meeting with Christine. She rested it on the coffee table in front of where they both sat on the sofa. Walt placed the drive into the port and clicked open the file. The video started.
“Oh, God,” Avery said as Cameron Young’s naked backside materialized on the screen.
“I told you you’d have to blur most of it out.”
Avery continued to watch until Victoria Ford appeared on the screen. Avery pinched her eyebrows together when she saw the dominatrix outfit, complete with a dangerous-looking spiked necklace and wristbands. Victoria’s naked breasts poked through the holes of the leather suit she wore.
“How many times have you seen this?”
“Just once,” Walt said. “And only part of it. Once we identified Victoria Ford, I left to interview her.”
Avery sat in stunned silence as she watched Victoria Ford pace back and forth next to her vulnerable prey. Avery had trouble reconciling the woman Emma Kind had described, and the one whom Avery had heard on the answering machine recordings, with the woman she saw in the video. Her breath caught when she saw Victoria bring up the tasseled object in her right hand.
“What is that?”
“I believe it’s called a flogger whip,” Walt said. “That whip, or a similar one, is what caused the violent welt marks on Cameron Young’s body that were noted in the autopsy. Should I turn it off?”
“No. So this is how you figured out they were having an affair?”
Walt nodded. “Yes. From the paraphernalia found at the crime scene we knew Cameron Young was at least having a single night of dangerous sex. His wife claimed during my initial questioning of her that she and Cameron had never participated in any type of S and M sex. Discovering the video allowed us to zero in on Victoria Ford as his lover.”
Avery cocked her head to the side as she watched the screen and voyeuristically spied on Victoria and her lover. “Where did this video take place?”
“In Cameron Young’s writing studio.”
“Why is it so off-centered?”
On the monitor, the action took place in the far right-hand side of the shot, as if the camera were pointed slightly in the wrong direction.
“I don’t know,” Walt said. “Maybe they didn’t have good producers like you. It’s a homemade sex tape, not a cinematic production.”
On the screen, Victoria Ford slapped the whip against her lover’s back and shoulders. To Avery, it looked more playful than violent. She watched Victoria move down Cameron’s body and tap him again with the whip, this time on the buttocks and upper thighs. Then, she stopped.
“Wait a second,” Avery said. “Rewind it.”
Walt looked at the screen. “The video?”
“Yeah. Rewind it a bit.”
Walt ran his finger over the mouse pad and clicked the reverse arrow until the movie ran backward for a few seconds.
“There,” Avery said.
She watched the screen as Victoria brought the tasseled whip down across Cameron Young’s backside. About to strike again, Victoria instead stopped and walked forward where she bent down to place her ear by his mouth.
“Play that part again and turn the volume up,” Avery said.
Walt rewound again and increased the volume. This time, when Victoria brought the whip down, the muffled voice of Cameron Young could be heard. The word he spoke was difficult to make out, but as soon as he uttered it Victoria lowered the whip and bent down to speak to him.
“What did he say?” Avery asked.
Walt shook his head. “I couldn’t make it out.”
He reversed the video again and they both leaned forward to listen more carefully. The whistle of the whip preceded a stinging thwack. Then Cameron Young spoke the single word.
Cinnamon.
“Cinnamon?” Walt said. “Did he say cinnamon?”