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Victor was inside. That, she saw instantly. There was activity on the wifi. There were two different devices in use. One was a phone. A phone in the house was a definite sign that somebody was home. And the other was a laptop. There were connections to the living room, that weren’t currently active, and also separate connections to a basement room. She guessed that was where he must be, and maybe that was why he hadn’t heard the knocking.
Both phone and laptop were downloading fast, eating up the bandwidth from what she guessed was fiber. So, what was he so busy downloading? She wondered if she could take a look. It would only involve one further step, and although it was a technical one, she thought she could do it.
If she could access his laptop, which would be easier than the phone, then she’d have a way in. And that might tell her a lot.
She tried, but her first attempt got nowhere. Undeterred, Cami tried again, this time using a slightly different protocol, riding on the backbone of the home's wifi itself.
And she found a loophole. Now, she was in his machine and could see what he was doing.
As she saw, Cami’s blood began to curdle. She stared down at the screen, knowing that she was watching what he was watching now, and feeling utterly shocked by what she saw.
For a few moments, the footage was so dreadfully hypnotic that she could not tear her eyes away. And then, movement from the house got her looking up with a gasp. No way did she want to be face-to-face with him now. Not after seeing this. But she knew they would have to, and felt grateful that Connor would lead the charge.
To her relief, it was Connor, striding back from the other side of the house, having done a full circuit.
“There’s a French door at the back that looks unlocked,” he said thoughtfully. “I think we could find a way in if we needed to. Have you picked up anything?”
Cami turned her phone toward him, showing him the footage that mirrored what she guessed Victor himself was watching now.
“Yes, I have,” she said, her voice tight. “He’s in the basement, and I’ve just found this. Take a look. It’s unacceptable. Connor, we need to get in there, fast.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What the hell?” Cami could hear that Connor’s voice was soft and astounded as he stared down at the footage. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a horrible hate speech video,” she said, rage rising. “I can’t watch it. I don’t know who that guy is he’s listening to, but what he’s saying about – about a minority group and what should happen to them – it’s terrible. How can people think that way and share it?” She had torn her eyes away from the footage as soon as she had confirmed what it was. And it Connor was also not in a mind frame to delay another moment.
“We’re going inside,” he said. “If Victor is watching this in his basement, it’s more than enough cause to enter. Come to the back, Cami, and let’s see if my gut feeling about that French door is correct.”
Cami was still shaking as she put her phone away. The fact that sentiments like that were being shared, to deliberately turn people against each other and make them hate each other, was deeply disturbing. How could anyone – anyone – watch such a thing?
At least it proved beyond doubt that the exorcist’s gut feeling had been right on the money. Obsessed with death? Well, he was definitely on a dark road with that footage, which was claiming others who were different should be killed.
Still shaking with anger, she followed him around the house, traversing stepping stones that acted as islands from the untended sea of muddy grass around them.
At the back, Connor gave the French door a considering look, as if challenging it to make this harder for him. Then, he pulled down the handle and tugged it firmly.
He was right. Cami was astounded that the door opened with a shrill scream of hinges. The sound made her jump. He’d ignored the knocking – but down in his basement, had Victor Tyrone heard that?
They would soon find out. Connor rounded the corner and found a set of stairs going down.
His footsteps on the wooden stairs would attract attention for sure, Cami thought, even if Victor had earphones in, which she thought must be the reason why he hadn’t heard that knocking.
And sure enough, as Connor headed downstairs, Cami heard a scuffle of footsteps. And an agonized, outraged cry.
“Geez! What the hell? What the absolute hell are you doing here?”
Cami hung back because there wasn't room for her to go any further. Connor was filling the basement doorway, and he was confronting a wiry-looking man with close-cropped brown hair and an aggressive gleam in his hazel eyes. He wore an old, shapeless fleece jacket and jeans, but her initial impression was that he looked fit and strong.
The basement itself was like a man cave gone wrong. Posters of fight scenes were on the wall. There was a big screen nearby. He was clearly a lover of violent footage.
He could be the killer, and could be acting out some of what he’d heard. Hate speech could inflame people that way.
Victor did indeed have earphones in, which now he was ripping out.
“What are you doing here? You’ve broken into my house!” His voice was shrill.
“You’re watching illegal footage,” Connor’s voice was harsh. “Turn it off, now. And then we’re going to talk. Not in here. Upstairs.”
