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“I’m in,” she said, hearing the amazement in her own voice. “Connor, I’m in!”
“What can you find?”
“I’m looking. There’s a laptop still hooked up. He must have left it online. I think he’s been rushing now and making mistakes.”
She knew she was babbling in her excitement and hope, trying to fill the silence as her program accessed what was on that machine.
“Okay. He has a couple of random apps open,” she said, sifting through the trash on the machine, which was a little messier than his front yard, to find what she needed to. “And he has a maps app. I think he’s been researching his next victim. I can’t see anything on it, though!”
The app was blank. Cami stared at it. What was going on? Had he cleared it? Had he been so careful that he’d erased his tracks? Surely she couldn’t stumble now that she was so close. There must be a way through, a way to see what he’d been doing. There must!
“Wait! I know! I’m going to go back through his history. He’s cleared the map itself, but maybe he didn’t clear his history. Maybe if I go back, I can see what he’s been doing.”
Gazing down at her phone, Cami pressed the back button. And just as Connor kept a brisk, friendly, upbeat demeanor when dealing with his witnesses and anyone he needed information from, Cami found herself doing exactly the same with her own phone. Relaxed, positive, sending it out the good vibes, encouraging that search history to peek out from wherever it was and let her take a look.
There it was. She caught her breath. She could see exactly where he'd been now. He'd been tracing routes, and looking at them, she saw that they formed a series of concentric semi circles. And if she looked at where all those rough semi-circles started and ended…
Focusing furiously, concentrating on the start points and end points, and getting a sense of what he had looked for, Cami narrowed it down. Closer, closer. It was this block, this half of the block. He'd mapped a route from behind here, too. If she took that into account, then it meant – it meant this house. It could only be this one.
“Connor!” she said. “I’ve got it.”
“How accurately? Where is it?” he asked urgently, taking his own phone out.
“It’s number four Rockpool Avenue.”
But as she spoke the words, checking the map once more, she realized the futility of their mission. This house was at least twenty minutes' drive away. He had a twenty minute lead on them, minimum. Most probably, he was much further ahead. If she was going to save this woman's life, then she had to think of something else. Just running there blindly would not be enough.
“What about the code?” she said aloud.
“Cami, we need to go.” Connor’s voice was urgent.
“Wait,” she said. “Connor, wait. I just need to see if I can get this smart home’s access code. Because we can’t do much, but if we can find it, we might be able to intervene.”
Shifting from foot to foot, stressed and impatient and feeling as if every decision now would be the wrong one, Cami checked through the records, searching the machine as fast as she could.
There was something here. A file that seemed like it didn’t belong.
“It might be this!” she said. “Let me check.”
“We have to go!” Connor’s voice was sharp.
“Okay, I’m in!” Cami turned away, clutching her phone and rushing back to the car. “I’m in, and I’ve got the code. Whatever he’s doing now, in that house – we can try to do something to counter it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Sylvia Edgecombe had had a long day, and she was tired. Working the late shift at her veterinary clinic was more of a calling than a job, but it was exhausting when things ran over time, which they almost always did.
Who could ever turn away a traumatized owner who arrived as she was locking up the door, with a sick animal, or a stray cat found, or an injured dog? Not her. Her soft heart and her willingness to help were why the clinic that she co-owned had such a good reputation and was loved by all the neighborhood.
It was also the reason why she seldom, if ever, got home on time. She was half an hour late tonight, which wasn’t bad for her, and at least it had meant that the stray cat, cold and hungry, now had a warm cage to sleep in for the night and a square meal inside her. Maybe she’d take her in, if nobody claimed her. Sylvia had a special love for calicos. They were one of her favorites.
She pulled up in the driveway and activated the garage door. She waited, tried again, gave an annoyed sigh. She had gotten this automation installed just so that she could come home on a cold night and drive straight into the warmth and safety of her garage. Now it wasn't working?
Annoyed, shivering in the cold, she got out, rushed to the door, hauled it up manually, climbed back in her car and drove in. After getting the door down again, she headed into the house, automatically turning on the lights as she reached the passage that led to the kitchen. Late as it was, she was starved, and wanted to fix herself a quick, late dinner.
But as she reached the kitchen, the lights flickered again. On, off, on again. She froze. What was happening? Was there a loose connection? This had never happened before. The electronics usually worked perfectly in this cozy, double-story home.
She rummaged in her purse, took out her phone, activated the flashlight and set it on the counter. At least now, she’d have some light.
