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“I was categorizing evidence we collected from the Catskills mansion. There’s something here you need to see.”
Walt walked out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and into the foyer where his conversation wouldn’t be overheard.
“I’m at the Youngs’ residence now, speaking with the wife. I’m about to search the property.”
“You’re going to want to see this. Stat.”
“What is it?”
“We found a thumb drive in the desk drawer of the office. There’s a video on it.”
“What sort of video?”
“Ah, well . . . it looks like a homemade sex tape.”
Walt glanced back into the kitchen. His mind flashed back to moments earlier when Tessa Young described her and her husband’s separate work spaces. The studio was His. The office in the main house was Hers.
“Who’s on the video?”
“Cameron Young and a woman.”
Walt lowered his voice further. “His wife?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Walt raced back to the BCI headquarters after his brief interview with Tessa Young and an even shorter search of her home. Now he sat in front of the iMac with Ken Schuster and watched the footage unfold on the monitor. Cameron Young was naked and in a compromised position, bent over an apparatus Walt recognized from his late night research.
“I mean, look at this shit. What the hell is that thing?” Ken asked.
“A spanking horse,” Walt said matter-of-factly. “Or sometimes referred to as a boarding horse.”
Ken slowly turned away from the monitor and gave Walt a sideways glance.
“Research,” Walt said, pointing at the screen to get Ken’s gaze off him.
When a participant lay facedown on the apparatus, it exposed one’s buttocks to maximum punishment or pleasure. The video played for nearly one minute, Cameron Young’s backside on full display. Walt recognized the background in the video and realized it had been filmed in Cameron Young’s writing studio, although the shot was somewhat off center. It looked as though the camera had shifted and now the action took place to the left side of the screen.
“Anything on here other than this guy’s ass?”
Ken pointed at the timer on the bottom right of the screen and raised three fingers to start the countdown. Three, two, one. As soon as Ken lowered his third finger, a loud smack came from the computer speakers. Walt startled, nearly as much as Cameron Young’s body recoiled, as the multi-threaded whip lashed across his buttocks. The smacking noise came again with a second lashing.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Oh, it’s wild stuff all right,” Ken said.
The thwack came a third time.
“I don’t think I can watch this,” Walt said.
“You’d better.”
A muffled female voice could be heard from off screen, but her exact words were too muffled to make out, as if the camera’s microphone were not working properly.
“Whose voice was that?” Walt asked.
Ken pointed at the screen, never taking his eyes off the action. Finally, the backside of the woman came into view. Only her lower back, buttocks, and legs were visible because of the amateurish nature of the video and the off-centered angle. Soon though, the woman kept walking and came into full view. Dressed in black dominatrix leather, studded wristbands, and a choke collar with silver spikes pinched around her neck, the woman walked past Cameron Young’s exposed buttocks and to the far end of the shot. The whip hung perilously from her right hand. When she turned to face the camera Ken paused the video, capturing her image clearly.
