Page 48 of John’s Yearning

“Hey, you can’t just use my computer.” But Grayson didn’t even turn around, so she addressed John instead. “What if he deletes something? That’s confidential stuff.”

“Don’t worry, he’s trained,” John said calmly and approached the desk, as Grayson swiveled around in the chair.

“Safe, huh?” Grayson huffed. “Then why are there pictures of all these kids on a publicly accessible website?” He pointed to several of them. “Look at this, John. I recognize this one, this one, and these two. They’re the ones from the police reports.”

“Fuck!” John spun around. “You call that secure? Every pervert in the country can see those pictures.”

“No!” Ms. Young protested and approached, looking more pissed off than frightened now. “The only reason you can see them on this site is because I’m logged in.” She pointed to a spot in the top right-hand corner of the screen. “I was working on it earlier, that’s why I’m still logged in. Nobody can access the site without a login and password.” She turned around to look at Savannah, who’d also stepped closer. “You know that. I told you that I give a separate login and password to each client so they can see the proofs online, but they can only see their own, not the pictures of any other client.”

Savannah nodded and looked at John. “It’s true. Ms. Young gave me a password to choose which pictures I wanted from the shoot. And it only worked for a week.”

Ms. Young nodded eagerly. “The logins expire after seven days. And unless a parent shares them with their friends, there’s no way anybody else could have seen those photos.”

“Actually,” Savannah said slowly, “there is.”

Everybody’s gaze snapped to her.

“How?” John asked.

“Somebody could have hacked the system. It’s not that hard.”

The photographer opened her mouth to protest, but Savannah lifted her hand. “I know what I’m talking about. You’re not a government agency, nor a high-powered tech company. You don’t have the kind of security measures in place those companies do.” She pointed to the computer. “If somebody wanted to get in there, they could.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ms. Young ground out.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe it,” John said. “I believe it. Tell me, where do you keep the names and addresses of your clients?”

Ms. Young tipped her chin in the direction of the computer. “On a database.”

“And I assume that you somehow link the addresses with the photos?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. The database is separate.”

The clicks of the computer mouse sounded behind him, and John looked over his shoulder and noticed Grayson clicking on the pictures and revealing the file names. He turned, grinning triumphantly at the photographer. “Last name, date, and sequential number? That’s your naming convention for the photo files, really? And you think the person who hacked into your computer and swiped the database wouldn’t be able to match the photos to the names and addresses?” Grayson clicked his tongue. “Amateur move.”

A gasp came from Ms. Young, and John saw her press her hand to her mouth. Her eyes took on a pleading look. “But why would somebody…”

“Because child sex traffickers are—”

“Shut up, Grayson!” John wanted to bare his fangs at the hybrid, instead, he just glared at him.

Grayson grunted something unintelligible, which could be an apology, but it was too late. John shifted his gaze to Savannah, and saw the tears in her eyes. Fuck! Did Grayson have to remind her what fate was awaiting Buffy if they couldn’t find her in time? Insensitive bastard!

Even though he knew that Savannah had to already have suspected that a child trafficking ring was a sex trafficking ring, there was no need to spell it out and make the pain worse. It was better to leave certain things unspoken. He wished he could comfort Savannah, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Instead, John addressed the photographer again. “We need to take your computer with us. We’ll have our IT team comb through it to find any evidence of hacking.”

“But I need this for work. Without it—”

“If you’d rather I’d take you down to the police station and have you booked as an accessory for thirteen counts of kidnapping and child trafficking, that can be arranged,” John thundered.

Ms. Young shrank back, visibly intimidated, and wrapped her arms around her torso as if she was cold. “Take it, please. I’ll cooperate. Whatever you need. Logins, passwords. Just ask for it.”

John nodded, somewhat appeased by her compliance. “My IT team might call you if they need anything else.” He pointed to a stack of business cards on her desk. “Is your cell number on there?”

“No, just my business number.”

He took a card and a pen and handed both to her. “I need a number where we can reach you 24/7.”