Page 42 of Girl, Deceived

Ella clicked, and a video opened up. It was brief. Only eight seconds long.

First, darkness, then splashes of green came into focus. The camera panned to the right, and there lay Amelia Martin – one of the children Ginny had been entrusted to watch – sleeping soundly in her bed.

‘Oh my God,’ Ripley said. ‘He videoed himself in the house.’

The video quickly cut out. Ella stopped and took a deep breath, feeling like she’d just gone ten rounds in a boxing ring.

‘He terrorized Ginny moments before he killed her. He sent her a video while he was upstairs.’

‘Sick freak,’ Daniels said. ‘Why would he do that?’

Ella had a few guesses, but they all came down to the same thing in the end. ‘Because he’s making his own horror movie.’

Ripley and Daniels both fell quiet. Ella felt like she’d spoken something that daren’t be said, like she was speaking what was on everyone’s mind but were too afraid to say it. And now that the idea had escaped her lips, the pieces fell into place.

‘He filmed Jessica and Ginny’s murders. And remember at the old cabin, when we saw those marks in the dust?’

Ripley pinched the bridge of her nose and smirked like she'd been given the answer to a riddle that now seemed obvious. 'Tripod,' she said. 'He filmed that, too.'

‘Yeah, and he wants us to know it. Our unsub knows we’d find Ginny’s cloud account. These videos are for us.’

Ripley chimed in, ‘When he sent the first video to Ginny, it was a power play. To show he’s omnipotent. By sending her that video, he was signaling to Ginny that she was already his prey, and there was nothing she could do about it. That’s a whole other level of psychological torment.’

‘It's also a significant risk,’ Ella added. ‘Sending a video while he's in the house? If she had seen it and screamed or alerted someone... He's playing a dangerous game.’

Ripley nodded. ‘Which means he's confident. Overly so. This isn’t just about the murders. It’s about the thrill, the chase. He’s not just playing the role of a serial killer anymore. He’s become one, with all the psychological components to boot.’

‘And he wants us to know it,’ Daniels said, gritting his teeth. ‘He wants us to feel helpless.’

Ella looked at the computer screen, determination prickling every nerve in her body. ‘Yup. But we’re not helpless. He might be confident, but might be his downfall.’ She dug into the file details and pointed to a phone number. ‘Can’t send videos anonymously, not by text, anyway.’

Daniels wiped sweat off his forehead as he leaned closer. Ella caught a noseful of his cologne. ‘Guess he’s not so tech savvy after all.’

‘Ripley, can you trace a number? See who it belongs to?’

‘Yeah, give me a second. What if it’s just a burner phone though?’ Ripley hurried to her desk and fired up her laptop. She navigated to the police database.

‘We might still be able to trace where the message comes from. Daniels, you have software for that?'

‘The tech department will.’

'Good.' Ella read out the cell phone number, and Ripley keyed it in. In the modern age, smartphones require some form of verification or registration to use. Plus, with so many features requiring linked accounts and location data, it was difficult for any smartphone user to remain completely invisible.

A minute passed that felt like an eternity. Ripley's fingers flew across the keyboard, working at a frenzied pace, trying to pry open whatever digital door might hold the key to finding the merciless killer. Ella's eyes remained fixated on the screen, observing every movement, while Chief Daniels paced behind them, his eyes flitting between the computer and the doorway, as though he expected the murderer to walk right through it.

Finally, Ripley’s eyes snapped up, looking towards Ella. ‘I've got something,’ she said, her voice edging on both triumph and disbelief. ‘The number... it’s registered.’

Ella swallowed a lump in her throat. She hadn’t expected it to work. She predicted a swerve, a dead end, another labyrinth of complexities, but instead, Ripley had something. A clear lead. A beacon in the murk. ‘Who?’ she asked.

‘Not a name. A business. It’s the contact number for Morton’s Video Rental.’

Ella’s mind raced, her thoughts a vast, bottomless ocean. ‘Video rental? Places like that still exist?’

‘That’s what it says. Morton’s Video Rental. But there are no details about the business itself.’

Ella pushed on, searching the name online. Daniels interrupted.

‘Morton, Morton, Morton,’ he repeated. ‘Why do I know that name?’

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