Just Outside, page 12
Jacenta cut the call, and taking her advice, Cami stopped pacing and got into bed.
There, she finally read Ethan’s message.
“I don’t have a girlfriend. It’s just the bad movies and gym workouts for now. But maybe I need to change that sometime?”
Cami felt her stomach flip. That definitely sounded flirtatious.
“Maybe you do!” she texted back. Then, smiling, she plugged her phone in to charge and turned over. She felt better now, and the horrors of the day had receded.
Tomorrow, she would wake with a fresh mind and be ready to carry on the chase. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would do whatever it took to find this killer.
***
Cami’s theory hinged on whether she could access the second phone. And as she jolted upright from a surprisingly deep sleep in the motel room, she saw that it was now six a.m. and that meant it was time to check.
Ideally, she needed three phones. But with two, she could make a plan.
The program she'd set to run to open Emma’s phone would have been hard at work, and she hoped by now she might have access. The password system on that very new phone was complex and hard to bypass.
She got dressed, moving around the neat, impersonal motel room with its blue-gray décor and framed prints of Boston architecture and then walked across the forecourt to Connor's room and tapped on the door.
Connor opened the door just a moment later. He was dressed, and looked as if he'd been awake for some time already.
"Come on in," he said. "Let's see if you can open it. And now, run this theory past me again? What are we looking for? Remember that these phones have been temporarily released to us so that we can work on their content, but they still need to be signed back into evidence, so for now, wear gloves when you handle them."
Heading over to the desk where the phones lay, attached to chargers, Cami told him again about the idea that had fleetingly come to her last night.
"It started out with me thinking that we haven't focused enough on why the killer has chosen these particular victims," she said, pulling on the gloves Connor had placed nearby.
"Because they're bullies?"
"But why them? There must some method he’s using to find them initially. A reason why they're on the shortlist. And a reason why he's been able to find three bullies who all live in Boston."
"Yeah. I guess people can troll online from anywhere," Connor conceded.
"I think he might have a real life location where he's picking them. Like a hunting ground, where he finds his prey and then he targets them. Perhaps he does that by using a common wi-fi network. And he could do that, because the second part of my theory, is that we haven't yet figured out how tech savvy this guy is. And he is tech savvy. He's been able to get a lot of details on his victims."
"Yes. Those scenes are clean. And his speed points to thorough research," Connor agreed.
"So what I was wondering was whether there might be somewhere they've all been working at some stage. Some communal café, artists' center, or hub. They all live within about a ten mile radius, and they could all have used the same place at some point."
"And that would have helped the killer how?" Connor said.
As she took the phone off the charger, Cami explained in more detail.
"If the café had an open IP address, and a shared network, he could have gotten a lot of details from them online. Open wi-fi and shared networks are a hacker's best friend, and especially if people are just messing around on social media or doing basic work, they often don't care."
"Yup, I can see that," Connor said.
"He could have logged in, seen who they were, what they were saying, and he might even have been able to find out where they lived. Assuming he has a good knowledge of tech."
"And can you find out if there was a place in common?" Connor asked.
It was the million-dollar question, but as Cami took a look at the phone, she realized that she had the first step, at least.
"I've got into Emma’s phone, so now I have two devices to check. So, what I'm going to do now, is try and see where those victims have been."
"And you're going to do that how?" Connor asked.
"I'm going to look at their saved locations, their check-ins, their payments, their messages. I’ll check their saved wi-fi records.”
“And all that’s available?”
“Well, sort of. Some of it isn't obvious and some of it is hidden, but it's a lot easier if you have their personal devices. Then you can pretty much retrace their steps."
Connor shook his head. "It doesn't make total sense to me, but if you can get in and find these details, then let's see," he said in tones of reluctant approval.
Cami felt a mixture of satisfaction and relief at Connor's grudging praise. If she could put all of the victims' details together, that might give them something to work with. And she was looking, particularly, for places where they would have used the wi-fi. Where there would have been a chance for someone to see who they were, what they were doing, and what they were saying.
"Where's Cleo's phone?" Cami said, thinking again of how useful a third device would be.
"Cleo's phone was damaged. It seemed like she was also about to call for help when he broke in. She dropped it and then fell on it when she died. The screen smashed," Connor said.
"Okay. I'll see what I can do without the phone. I may be able to get something else online or from her social media," Cami said.
She was aware of Connor drawing back the curtains to let in the gray light of early dawn, and from somewhere in this urban environment, she picked up a hint of birdsong. But her focus was on the interactions. On patiently tracing where these victims had been in the weeks before their death. Brooke had been out and about nonstop. Cami guessed that she might have been meeting with clients and then working nearby. So perhaps Emma, the most recent victim, would provide an easier set of movements to match with.
Cami focused on her check-ins, cross-referencing where Emma had been and then comparing those to the other two.
She thought she had a common thread for a brief, exciting moment, but then couldn't find anything to confirm it on Cleo's interactions. So she went back further, another week into the past, and then she saw something that looked like it could be a match.
"Here. I've got something. I can't see where it's originating from yet. But all of them, in their browsing history, have connected up with this same wi-fi router," Cami said.
"A router?"
"Emma used it frequently. Brooke used it a few times in the past month. And Cleo used it a couple of weeks ago, according to what I can see here."
"So where is it?"
"It'll be based somewhere accessible. Most likely in a public location."
"How do we find it?"
"I need to go and hunt for it," Cami said.
Focusing intently on her task, she began the search, using a program that would help her to align the IP addresses with the geographic locations. It was a time consuming task and the level of concentration required was all the way on the top end of the spectrum. Cami focused intently as she searched. She was narrowing it down and felt a thrill of anticipation as she identified the suburb. The location of this router was in a central location to where the victims lived. And it was on the outskirts of downtown Boston. That much, she knew, even though it still felt like fumbling in the dark as she struggled to narrow down the options. Where was it?
Seething with impatience, she ran the program again, coordinating it with the mapping software to try and get an answer. The secret lay in triangulating the signal strength, but finding the information on this was like stumbling through a long tunnel, looking for a hidden alcove.
With a sigh, Cami looked up.
To her surprise, she saw the windows were substantially brighter than they had been when she began her hunt. Daylight was streaming in. From outside, the faint birdsong had been replaced with the throb and thrum of traffic.
"You found it?" Connor sounded impatient.
"I've got it to within a few blocks," Cami said, feeling frustrated that she couldn't triangulate it more precisely from this hotel room. "But if we go to that area, I might be able to get closer."
Connor didn't answer, but headed purposefully toward the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Cami had her laptop and phone open as Connor drove slowly into the downtown block where this router was located—somewhere. She was working at top speed, juggling her devices as best she could on the car seat. She had a very strong feeling that this place was the venue they needed.
All the variables were racing through her mind. For sure, this had to be the common thread. All three had been there.
But where was it?
The area wasn't helping. It was a trendy, slightly seedy mishmash of restaurants, bars, cafés, and clubs. An ideal student haunt, with charming, tumbledown, picturesque locations at every turn and with a medley of different chairs, faded wall art, rickety tables, and tiny but well-stocked bars. There were probably fifty different places within this three-block radius where these journalists and bloggers might have worked. Narrowing them down was not going to be easy, especially since they were all in such close proximity, crammed together in the labyrinth of narrow, twisting streets.
It was going to be a process of trial and error to find this place.
"Turn left here," she said.
Nope. This wasn't getting her anywhere.
"Turn around," she said.
With a sigh that told Cami he was starting to think knocking on doors might just get them better answers, Connor obliged.
"Try this street?" she suggested. This was a tiny road that wound its way in between a cluttered, multi-level shopping area. A tourist would be busy all day exploring these nooks and crannies. Cami didn’t have all day and was starting to feel despairing about getting closer.
Did one of these shops have an internet café in the back room, she wondered. It felt as if she was in the right place, but frustratingly, as Connor inched his way along the road, Cami wasn't getting what she needed. The signal wasn't improving and was remaining at the same level.
How was that possible, she wondered.
And then, she looked up.
"There! That must be it," she said.
Above the shops, she saw a surprisingly large and very atmospheric looking café.
"The Art House Café," it read in dark lettering above the door, which was accessed by a steep staircase.
"The Art House Café? What can I find about it? Can you stop for a moment?" Cami asked.
"Not without causing a traffic obstruction," Connor grumbled, but a minute later he found a place to pull over.
"Yup, this is their router. And it looks as if it's quite the trendy destination for online activities. There's a dark web browser on this main machine that I'm picking up." Cami frowned. “And linked to that, there’s some videos on here, in the archives, that look weird.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m not picking up enough to be sure.”
“Pornographic?” Connor asked.
“Not pornographic.” Cami was able to see more as her homemade hack got her further in. “But it looks as if he has some concealed cameras in the restaurant. There’s some footage of a couple of the customers. Just coming in, going out. But they’re all women. There are a few more here too. I’m wondering if he kept the footage when someone he liked walked in. Or maybe not someone he liked,” she said thoughtfully.
“Any videos of the victims?” Connor pushed.
“I’m looking.”
“And?” Connor’s tone seethed with impatience as if Cami wasn’t already working fast enough to set her keyboard on fire.
“I think there’s some of Emma here. Yes, it’s her for sure. He took a video of her walking in, and there’s also footage of her heading for the restrooms.” Cami felt creeped out by that. “She was filmed most recently, in the last few days. There are a lot of these short videos, and I mean a lot. If I go back, I might find the others.”
“Go back,” Connor said.
“Okay. I’m doing it. Hang on.” There was firewall software on the attack here, seeking to infiltrate her defenses. Quickly, Cami exited and re-entered, this time with an additional layer of camouflage in place that she hoped would buy her more time.
“Yes. I’ve found Cleo,” she said triumphantly. “And here’s Brooke, I’m almost sure. But I need to get out again. I’m being chased.”
As she hurriedly backtracked, Cami felt utterly shocked by these small snippets of recorded footage. How weird and creepy was it to film your customers going about their work and then save the videos? Or was there another reason for doing that? Was he hoping to zoom in on their screens later, taking information that he could use to find them?”
Suspicion crystallized in her mind.
This suspect was most definitely up to something strange, but how far had his forays into his clients’ privacy gone?
“Who is this man?” she asked, feeling outraged. “Shall I look him up?”
"Why do you need to do that?" Connor said.
"To find out about him," Cami argued.
"There's no need for that." He indicated the windows above. "We can go right in and ask to speak to him."
While Cami was busy exploring the Art House Café online, the place had opened for the day. The blinds were up, the main door was flung wide, and beyond it, she could see a place that looked to be full of dark, trendy décor, with unique, edgy, and strategically lit paintings on the walls: vibrant animals in bright colors, upside-down neon landscapes, glittery spider webs, and futuristic scenes.
"Okay," she said. "Let's go up."
They managed to find a parking space after a frustrating five-minute drive around this crowded area. And then they climbed the stairs and walked through the door, into this surprisingly dark setup.
Bright screens glowed at intervals, with signage advertising that these were rental devices for people who didn't bring their own. Everything about that setup screamed “you'll be hacked” to Cami.
Already, as they were looking for parking, the first few customers had filtered in. They were sitting on the medley of available chairs, sofas, armchairs, bean bags, and Pilates balls that surrounded the tables. There were plugs and adapters literally everywhere. The air smelled of good coffee with a faint undertone of toasted bread.
Even though Cami felt deeply suspicious of this place, she also felt drawn to the environment. She couldn't help it. The blinding speed of the connectivity—advertised on a handwritten poster by the door. The smell of coffee. The variety of quirky seats. The darkness of the décor, and the uniqueness of the art pieces on the walls. It was trendy, and it was fun. She would have loved to work here, with the most stringent security in place, of course.
Now she could see why Emma had regarded this place as a favorite local haunt, and why Cleo and Brooke, both clearly fans of the ultimate environment, had spent time here.
But now, the owner had some answers to give, and Connor was already striding over to the reception console nestled into the wall, with bright colored lights above it.
"We need to speak to the guy in charge here. Who's he?" he asked the young waitress, in a black apron, who appeared on the other side of the console.
She stared at him dubiously. "He's Hayden Mars. Who are you?" she asked, in a world-weary tone.
Connor didn't show any signs of being put off by her attitude.
"FBI Special Agent Connor," he said, showing his badge. Cami guessed it was not a familiar sight in this safe, secluded haunt.
"Uh—he's not here," she stammered.
"Where is he?" Connor demanded.
"I don't know."
Now she sounded close to panic. Cami had the feeling that faced with trouble from the FBI or trouble from her boss, she was going to protect her boss and carry on claiming ignorance. After all, the FBI didn’t pay her salary, and jobs in a trendy place like this didn't come along every day.
But Cami was thinking again of those windows outside this café, and what she was seeing inside. It seemed to her that the inside was smaller than she had expected. She'd thought when they had climbed the stairs, that they would be in the center of the café. But in fact, the door was all the way on the left.
And that meant something else was on the far side. Walled off and invisible. It wasn't a kitchen. She saw a waitress with a tray emerge from the far right.
Suddenly, she wondered if the space on the far left might be an apartment. A guy like this, with this vision and these quirks, might have set up a combo working and living space.
"You are committing a federal crime if you refuse to disclose information," Connor was saying in a reasonable tone to the appalled looking waitress. Guessing that this conversation might take a while and would most likely end nowhere, Cami decided to take a look at the cameras.
That was easy enough. Although the internet itself was well protected here, as usual, nobody had bothered to secure the cameras.
She found their online presence immediately and, using the conveniently accessible wi-fi, logged in.
Here was the top camera, right above them, filming them as they stood. There were a few others dotted around the place. Two in the kitchen. One directed at the till.
And here was another one. What was this one?
Cami switched to its vantage point and her eyes narrowed.
This was an apartment. She was absolutely sure that it was the place to the left of where they were standing. The lighting was the same, the light from the windows looked identical. The shape of the windows was identical. Now, she could see an interleading door to the far left where it must be accessed from.
She saw a dimly lit lounge through the camera view, and she could also see, on a wall inside the apartment, a security camera screen that showed all the footage. Each one of the different camera vantage points was there, divided into eight neat sections, faraway but still discernible. Even from within his apartment, Hayden Mars could keep an eye on his business.
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