Chapters (68)
- Dedication
- Title Page
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Copyright
“Just Deserts likes to say that Anonymous doesn’t leave any marks. When Anonymous goes after you, sure, maybe your lies have been exposed, your website hacked, but you can still get up in the morning and take a pee without blood coming out of your dick. Just Deserts likes to see bad people get physically hurt.”
He leaned in close to Duckworth as if he were letting him in on a secret. “I was a bad person.”
Duckworth said, “Yeah.”
“So this site’s inspiring vigilante nutbars all over the country.” He swung the laptop back around so he could see the screen. “Like, listen to this. Sacramento, California, there was that white guy who went to a black protest rally, about all the black folk getting shot by cops? And he starts scratching under his arms and making like he’s a monkey, and he gets caught on cell phone video and within a day it’s being watched all over the world?”
“I remember. It was last year some time.”
“Yeah, right. So the asshole gets identified, and his employer, which just happens to be the city, fires him. But that’s not enough retribution for Just Deserts. So one night, the guy gets picked up right out front of his house, and he literally gets tarred and feathered.”
Duckworth nodded. “I don’t remember anyone getting arrested for that.”
Craig shook his head in affirmation. “Nope. But they took snaps and got them to Just Deserts and up it went for all to see. Here, I can show you.” He tapped out a few keystrokes, spun the laptop around again. “Check it out.”
Duckworth had a look. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Craig spun the laptop back toward him. “Now we go—”
“I don’t need to hear all of these,” the detective said.
“—we go to Miami—that’s in Florida, you know—where we find that dipshit Wall Street investor who bought up the pharmaceutical company and raised the price of a life-saving drug from like fifteen bucks a pill to seven hundred and thirty dollars a pill, and he’s hanging out in some high-end nightclub dancing with these supermodels, and some guy comes through the crowd with a fucking syringe, right? And fucking injects the guy and says, ‘Hope you enjoy AIDS, asswipe!’ He slips away and they still don’t know who it was. But it hit Just Deserts in like twenty minutes.”
“Was it AIDS?”