Noam stared at the files on his desk, trying to find some link to how the information on the sex trafficking rings was being found. Nothing matched. There was no pattern to anything. Whoever was getting the information was good.
With every new victim — God, he hated calling them that. They were perverts, disgusting, vile creatures who deserved what they got, but according to the law, they were victims. With each new one, there was always a file. A shitload of information that led them to a crime the victim had been involved with.
Whoever gained the information was smart enough to know the police couldn't just take the printed off sheets as fact. Nope. They made sure to list website addresses and locations when possible, so the police could do their own investigation and gain evidence on their own.
Not a single victim had been released after recovering from their injuries in the hospital. Every single one had been taken into custody to face charges for some kind of sex crime against children.
With most of them already having records, it was an easy conviction with the evidence that the detectives gained from the folders left behind.
Today the folder held a list of locations where security camera footage could be obtained. Mostly cheap motels, warehouses, or homes. Whoever was hunting pedophiles was hacking the cameras and sending thumb drives of videos, most showing the pedophile showing up to locations, sometimes with children, other times after others had shown up with the children.
Noam's stomach turned when he thought about what went on inside those locations. It was enough for him to want to cheer on whoever was castrating and taking down the perverts.
"Noam, we got the video footage from that motel off Varison Street. It's all there, just like the file said it would be. I've got them trying to identify the other men as we speak, but your victim is on there for sure. Shows him going in at six and he doesn't come back out until almost two in the morning. Match those with the time stamps on the images posted to the dark web we found in the file, and the times match up." One of the other detectives stood in the doorway of his office.
"Fuck, this makes me want to pull that guy out of his hospital bed and hurt him even worse." Noam ran his fingers through his hair.
"You and me both. We found hard copy images of the perp with children. He had them stashed in his office desk. They're trying to identify the children now as well."
"Thanks, keep me updated." He leaned back in his chair and sighed, wondering for the millionth time why he kept this job. He didn't sign up for this shit. He wasn't Sex Crimes. He was supposed to handle everyday criminals, not sick fucks like this, but because this was a crime within a mix of a ton of sex crimes, he was stuck having to face it all.
He had to give the men and women who worked sex crimes for a living a ton of credit. He couldn't look at this shit all day and then go home and act like everything was right in the world.
This fucked with his head.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off a headache that was coming on. He hadn't had one in a while, but he had enough in the past to know the signs. He had maybe twenty-four to forty-eight hours before he'd be home in bed, his head threatening to explode, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He reached into his desk and pulled out his prescription, dumping a pill into his palm before tossing it into his mouth and swallowing it dry. The pills helped when the headaches weren't bad, but the bad one would come, and no medicine he'd tried yet would touch it. He just had to fight it out until it ended.
At least this one would probably hit over the weekend, so he wouldn't have to miss any work.
Shoving back his chair, Noam stood. There was nothing more he could do for the day. He needed to get away from the office for a while. Get some fresh air and try and erase all the images from his mind that he'd looked through all day.
They didn't pay him enough for this shit, but at the same time, if he could save one child, bring one child home, stop one child from being hurt, he would do it for free.
"I'm taking off," he called as he passed by his boss's office. "I'll see you Monday." He didn't wait for an answer. It was well after five and he'd put in a full day. Thank God he wasn't on-call this weekend.
He glanced up at the blue sky as he stepped outside. It was beautiful. With rain headed their way over the next week, he wanted to enjoy the sun as much as possible. If he was going to be forced into bed with a migraine in a day or two, he was going to make it worth his while.
He found his car and quickly made his way home.
He pulled into the garage only because he needed to load his car before going out again. As he got out, he smiled, hearing a small, excited whimper from the other side of the door.
"Miss me?" He pushed the door open that led from the garage into the house, pausing to scratch his dog, Casper, behind the ears. She was a mutt he'd picked up one night off the streets. She'd been thin and dehydrated, obviously on her own for a long time. He'd put posters up, posted her picture all over social media, but when no one claimed her, he'd happily taken her as his own. That had been nearly four years ago. Now, she was his companion, spending every free minute they could together and kept him from coming home to an empty house.
"What trouble did you cause today?" He straightened and walked farther into the house. He didn't expect Casper to have gotten into any trouble. She was a good dog. He'd never had a problem with her.
Casper followed him down the hallway and into the bedroom, watching as he started to strip off his clothes.
"I know you want to play, but I've got to leave again for a while. I promise to play in the backyard tonight." He glanced at her as she watched him dress in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "If this headache holds off, I'll take you to the park tomorrow."
He stared at his reflection in the mirror as he ran a brush through his thick hair. He hated his hair. Thick, with a natural wave, it never looked combed. He'd worn it in a short military cut for most of his life, not wanting to fight with it, but he'd let it grow out over the last two years, and now it curled around the top of his neck and over his ears. He had to get it cut often, but he gave up trying to tame it. Life was too short to worry about how his hair looked.
The scar down the side of his chin stood out against his tanned skin. He ran his finger down it, remembering how the doctors had told him it would fade over time. It hadn't, but he seldom thought about it anymore. It was just another battle scar. One of many that covered his body, and by far not the worst.
"Maybe I'll stop and get some ribs on the way home? Bones sound good?" He smiled as Casper's ears perked up at the word bones. She loved to sit and chew on them as he was lazy and watched TV at night. If he got a large order, it would get them both through the weekend and save him having to cook.
He stepped past Casper and went over to the large gun safe he had in the corner of his bedroom. His guns were his pride and joy. He'd been raised around them. Carried one through his service with the IDF. Now, carried one for work.
He pulled several rifles out of the safe, laying them on the bed. He didn't plan on spending too much time out tonight, but once he got to the gun range, he would easily lose track of time. He set several boxes of ammo on the bed beside the guns, then carefully transferred them all into a huge duffle bag.
It had been weeks since he'd gone shooting, and his excitement grew as he zipped the duffle and swung it over his shoulder. "You be good for a few more hours," he told Casper.
He glanced to make sure she had water and that the doggie door to the backyard was okay, then headed back out to the garage.
Once he had his guns secured in the trunk, he got back in the car. The range was ten minutes away, and in fifteen, he hoped to be able to forget all about work, all about kids being tortured, and all about castrated men. He would be in his zone and let the concentration of shooting take his mind off everything else.