Authors note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Tracking Evil, The Podcast -- Part One
Erica Anderson is a journalist. More specifically she is an unemployed journalist. Both her parents were print journalists, working for small papers in Kansas. Growing up in a rural farming community, Erica idolised her parents and there was never any doubt what career she would choose to pursue. After gaining a degree in Journalism from Kansas State, she began looking for work.
Each time the interview ended the same way, 'you need more experience'. Disappointed but no less determined, she opted to set up an online blog, honing her skills, reporting on local and international events and gaining a respectable number of regular readers. However, it wasn't enough to separate her from her peers much less gain her the recognition she needed to push for a job opportunity at a big media firm. So, Erica decided she'd work on a podcast. First, she'd need to find something catchy, something that would get her noticed.
Standing 5'6, 114lbs, a trim 34C-25-36 figure, with shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes and the kind of flawless pale skin that women throughout the ages have been willing to sell their souls for, Erica doesn't exactly scream 'hard bitten crime reporter', and at just twenty-four years old she doesn't come across as a veteran, experienced fact-finder either. To see her was to think, 'innocent, sweet' not 'driven and single-minded'.
Nevertheless, she began looking at unsolved crime reports, scouring online sources, images, anything that would tip her off to a story that everyone else had missed, a story big enough to become popular, popular enough to give her name recognition. Then, maybe, she found something.
Episode One: An Old Friend
Erica smoothed down the folder lying on the table beside her coffee. It was a nervous habit of hers. She tended to adjust and readjust items around her whenever she felt on edge. She hadn't seen Victor in a couple of years now and Erica had been in two minds about this whole meeting. The café was quiet, the morning rush for breakfast dwindling off, so she'd had no problem in grabbing a window table.
Her indecision and nervousness had leaked into every aspect of the day. She'd agonised over wearing her hair down as she had always done in college, to remind Victor of their time together in Kansas. But because she was trying to give a professional look to her meeting with him, she wondered if she should wear it tied back. Eventually she'd gone for a loose ponytail, but then she had to decide on an outfit, casual, smart casual, just smart? She finally opted for a dark pants suit with flats instead of heels. The next dilemma, should she have a gift for him, since she was going to end up asking for his help? There at least she felt she'd made the correct decision. It would have seen like a poor bribe especially where a friend is concerned.
The coffee shop door opened and Victor entered. He'd put on a little weight since she'd last seen him and he'd shaved the beard but he still had the same smile and it was wide and beaming as he walked towards her. Erica stood up and hugged him as he reached her table. She pushed herself up onto her toes as she did so, in order to get an arm over his shoulder. Victor was six feet four and had always made her feel tiny with his huge shoulders and height. Like Erica, he was from Kansas. His parents had emigrated to the US from Nigeria and worked in a hospital. Their pride in their son going first to college and then getting accepted for FBI training had been considerable. Erica still remembered the party they had thrown for him and the hangover she'd suffered the next day.
"How's it going G-man?" She teased him, flicking at his tie with a finger as they sat back down at the table.
"Not bad, not bad. I'm still here in DC waiting on my first posting. I'm hoping New York or California but I'll probably draw Alaska." Victor answered with a grin.
"Sure, sure, they send all the top candidates to the frozen north, that's just good governmental sense right there." Erica said smiling.
They ordered some food and Erica refreshed her coffee, chatting and reminiscing for a few minutes. Finally, Victor pushed his empty plate to one side and leaned forward on the table.
"Ok Erica, what gives? You look like you're heading for an interview but I know you aren't. If you were, then your parents would have been bombarding your cell with good luck texts while I've been sitting here."
"Maybe my phones on silent? Maybe it's turned off?"
Victor just raised an eyebrow at that.
"Fine, fine." Erica slumped back in her chair, her fingers once more playing across the folder on the table. "No wonder you did so well at your training in Quantico." she muttered.
"Nah, this is just me knowing you this well." he responded.
Erica flipped open the folder and leaned forward conspiratorially.
"I need some advice. Well, some advice and some help really. Can you give me five minutes to explain?"
Victor nodded then added, "No promises but yeah, I always have five minutes for a friend."
"I started going through old murder cases. Well not ancient ones, but unsolved ones in the last ten years or so. I deliberately stayed clear of Kansas but aside from that I just flitted from state to state, looking for something with a hook. Something that other people might find interesting too. Anyway, there was no point looking at dead criminals, no public interest, same for homeless people, addicts etc. Celebrities, the rich or the famous, everyone has trawled through them already so I knew I'd find nothing there. I focused on what was left. Gotta say, even with excellent police closure figures it was still kind of depressing how many there were."
Victor nodded, "Yes, it is. So, I'm guessing you found a 'hook' then?"
"Ummm, well see I'm not sure. This is where the advice part comes in."
Erica drew out four photographs and spread them out in front of Victor. One was obviously a crime scene picture, police and a covered body visible in the foreground. The other three photos showed people standing in front of either walls or buildings. She tapped the first picture.
"Lisa Bryerson, New Jersey, Caucasian, nineteen years old. Stabbed to death in the street."
Picture two, four people stood in from of an apartment building.
"Kyle Robbins, Washington DC, African American, forty-two years old. Shot in his bedroom."
Picture three, a plain wall beside a sidewalk, a small group of people looking into the street.
"Leon Monroe, North Carolina, African American, twenty-seven years old. Knocked down in the street, run over repeatedly."
Picture four, another apartment block, an old lady laying flowers down beside the main door.
