by Jack Kilborn
“Located in Guam. My ass. He’s using TOR.”
“Huh?”
“An onion router. It relays a user’s location, bouncing it around the world, so they can be anonymous while online.”
“Is this my stalker?”
“I have no idea. Could be. Could be our webcam host, who just likes anonymity. Could be some teenager who doesn’t want to pay the monthly subscription fee. Or just someone curious.”
“Can you block him?”
“I don’t know how he’s getting inside the network. And he might be legit. Even if I could block this IP, he could just log in using a different one. Our site has decent encryption, but there is no such thing as fully secure. Anything that links to the Internet can be compromised. Modern computer security isn’t about keeping people out. It’s about detecting them quickly once they get in.”
“So what should I do if he comes back?”
“Alert the mods. And take a screen capture.”
“It’s creepy.”
Linda logged off and pushed away from the keyboard. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. No privacy. No secrets. We all live in a fishbowl, and everyone can watch. Be happy; at least you’re getting paid for it. All those unaware suckers on their webcams, their phones, their tablets are being spied on and don’t make a dime, or have a clue.”
CHAPTER 20
As the night progresses, Erinyes listens.
The app on Detective Tom Mankowski’s cell phone is linked to his camera and microphone, but the phone is in the cop’s pocket so there is nothing to see but black. Still, Erinyes can hear.
Street sounds.
A truck.
People talking.
Tom’s partner, Roy Lewis, saying something about a shovel.
They’re digging through a Dumpster. Looking for the shower curtain.
Good luck. It’s the wrong Dumpster.
Idiots.
Still, they caught on pretty fast. Faster than anticipated. Erinyes had planned for the possibility that this might happen, but was impressed just the same.
Sniff away, doggies. Follow the trail, see where it leads.
Erinyes leaves the computer, heading for her bedroom. Walking down the hallway, she stops and looks in the full-length mirror. Erinyes studies herself, running a finger over her slender jaw, trailing it down her neck.
Identity. Some are born with it. Some search for it.
For some, it changes. Plastic. Fluid. Heads or tails, depending on the flip.
“I see you,” she tells the monster in the mirror.
Erinyes has spent a long time dealing with nightmares. But the secret to beating them was something the shrinks never told you.
Pain can be passed along. The quickest cure for suffering is to make someone else suffer.
Then she goes to her bedroom closet to check her bug-out bag.
CHAPTER 21
Though it was going to seriously cut into her weekly check, Kendal kept her bedroom cameras off. Though some clients paid to watch sorority girls sleep, and it was easy money, Kendal didn’t like it. She could handle being watched during waking moments, when she was alert. Being spied on while unconscious was a little too creepy. She valued her sleep too much.
Kendal crawled into bed, reached for her Kindle, touched it three times, then turned it on.
She was on location 2375 of a scary book called Hellmonger. Kendal had no idea why she read scary books. Life was scary enough. Her past was the stuff of nightmares. Why read about make-believe horrors, when there were so many real horrors in the world?
And yet, she lapped this stuff up. Maybe it was akin to self-medicating. A form of stress relief. Or maybe she was just warped. But as long as it was make-believe, Kendal liked being scared.
Kendal found the bookmark where she’d left off, and began to read.
The bedroom clock was closing in on 3 A.M. The witching hour. When witches, demons, and ghosts were at their most powerful.
Jayden stared at his closet.
There was a monster inside.
He was sure of it.
Even though he was twelve years old, and shouldn’t believe in monsters anymore. Things can exist even if you don’t believe them.
But Jayden did believe. He and Charlie shouldn’t have been playing with that tarot deck. That old gypsy had warned them not to fool around with it. They’d awoken something.
Something evil.
Something that was now in Jayden’s closet.
Jayden gripped his cell phone, along with the Ten of Swords card. He slowly pushed back his blanket and swung a bare foot onto the cold, wood floor. The card brought the monster. The card should be able to vanquish the monster. As the floor took his weight, the board creaked.
Did the monster hear it?
Jayden held his breath. He stared at the closet door. He imagined the monster on the other side, also staring at the door. Waiting to pounce.
I AM WATCHING YOU
Kendal startled. That pop-up caught her. For a moment, she thought the message was for her. But it must have been part of the ebook she was reading. Jayden had his cell phone in the story. The monster in the closet must have sent him a text.
She read on.
Jayden felt his bladder clench. He’d never been so scared. His hands trembled, and he forgot how to swallow, his throat feeling like a giant knot.
He took another step toward the closet, and the floor creaked.
Step, creak.
Step, creak.
Step, creak.
Creak.
There was a creak, but Jayden hadn’t made another step.
The monster had made the sound.
He tore his eyes away from the closet, wondering if he should run. Get out of his room, go tell his parents. They’d think he was silly. A baby. But at least he’d be safe.
You cannot get away
Again, Kendal flinched. That really looked like a pop-up screen. But it didn’t look like it was part of an ebook.
It looked like someone had sent her a text message.
Did Kindles even have text messaging?
Freaking out a little, she exited the book, and went to Google, typing in “Can Kindles be hacked?” and began to scroll through the results.
Before she found the answer, she had an even bigger question. Did Kindles have cameras? Could someone be watching her through the camera? Watching her as she read?
Kendal knew a guy who was so paranoid, he put black tape over the cameras on his cell phone. But maybe that guy was onto something.
What if someone had hacked my Kindle and was watching me right now?
Kendal giggled nervously. That was ridiculous. This wasn’t really happening. This was just the ebook she was reading. The author was being meta, trying to make her believe she was the one being watched.
Jayden was the one getting the pop-up texts. He had to be the one.
Kendal kept reading, flipping ahead for the scene where Jayden answered the message.
Jayden reached for the closet doorknob, and stopped before touching it. He needed to tell Charlie first. If anything happened, Charlie had to know it was because of their demon stupid incantation.
Jayden brought up his cell phone, preparing to dial. But his battery was dead. He wondered if he should plug it in, try to
I see you
Kendal’s heart threatened to jump out of her mouth. She stared at the message, still unable to tell if it was part of Jayden’s story, or happening to her in real life. Jayden’s phone was off, but the demon he’d summoned could probably still send him messages supernaturally. That was probably the—
You are going to die
KENDAL!!!
The Kindle flashed, and a picture of Kendal’s frightened face appeared on the screen. She threw it across the room, hugged her knees to her chest, and began to sob.
Why is this happening to me?
What did I do?
Am I a bad person? Did I do something to deserve this?
Haven’t I suffered enough?
Through the panic, a tiny idea fought for attention.
Proof. This is proof. I can take this to the police.
She scrambled out of bed, scurrying to the Kindle, turning it over and seeing the large crack running down the glass. The screen was black. Repeat pressing of the power button didn’t do anything.
Kendal was sure of what she’d seen. Her own face, eyes wide with terror. That hadn’t been a hallucination.
But had her stalker done it? Or had Kendal taken a selfie and freaked herself out?
She turned on all the lights and returned to bed, tears stinging her cheeks.
The cameras in her room were off, but she could still feel them watching.
Kendal went to the bedroom closet, reaching inside of her backpack, taking out the duct tape. One by one, she taped off every camera in her room. Then she went behind her desk and unplugged her computer.
Maybe they’d kick her out of the house. And without money, she’d surely be kicked out of school.
But at that moment, Kendal didn’t care. She hadn’t been this scared in years. Since her father…
Stop it. I don’t want to think about that.
I don’t want to think about anything.
I just want to sleep.
But Kendal was too afraid to close her eyes.
CHAPTER 22
“You smell like garbage,” Joan told Tom when he walked into the house at 2 A.M. She was sitting on the sofa, laptop on, her face and tone so completely devoid of expression that Tom knew she must be fuming.
“Sorry. I’ll shower.”
He trudged into the bathroom, turned on the water, and began to strip. Two hours into Dumpster diving and Tom had blessedly lost his olfactory sense. But he knew his clothes probably needed to be burned, and he’d no doubt stunk up his car, and his house. He hopped into the shower while it was still lukewarm, reaching for the soap dish, coming away with a sliver of soap that was as thin as a library card, working hard to get a lather and failing, stepping out of the shower and checking under the sink for a fresh bar, remembering that he was out of soap and had been meaning to pick some up before Joan came over, got back into the shower and dumped shampoo over his body, and tried to scrub away the last five hours.
He wasn’t able to.
The search for the shower curtain had been a bust. He and Roy had gone through the entire Dumpster, and the garbage truck, and then had called in back-up to check the surrounding Dumpsters in the area. When Tom left, there were still men and women waist-deep in refuse, and Roy was trying to locate the truck that had already picked up the remainder of the trash.
Some vacation.
After wrapping himself in the robe Joan bought him the time they’d stayed at the Hilton in Beverly Hills, Tom brushed his teeth, used some mouthwash, and slapped on some of the aftershave Joan bought him, even though he didn’t like aftershave. He knew she was pissed. Hell, he was pissed at himself. The time they spent together was good. Real good. But Tom knew the time apart was strangling the relationship. Skype and texts and phone sex couldn’t ever compare to being in the same place at the same time. Love wasn’t meant to be experienced long-distance. So the rule was, whenever they were together, they made up for lost time.
But Tom had broken that rule. He’d hurt Joan. He knew it. And this was the woman he wanted to marry.
He had a half-assed plan to make up for it, at least in the short term. Joan loved foot rubs. Maybe that would warrant a little forgiveness.
Tom checked the living room, didn’t see her there, and went into the bedroom.
Joan was wrapped in the comforter, snoring softly.
He sat at the foot of the bed, thinking. It wasn’t polite to wake her up. But who didn’t like being woken up to having their feet rubbed?
He snaked a hand under the blanket, found her leg, and began to gently knead it. Joan’s breathing changed.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Did you catch him?”
“No.”
“Was it worth going in?”
Tom recognized the question was a trap. If he answered yes, the job was more important to him than Joan. If the answer was no, then he had no reason to go in.
“I missed you,” he said. “I don’t like myself very much right now.”
“At least you smell better.” She extended her leg and made an mmm-mmmm sound.
“I want to make it up to you,” Tom said. “You know how you’ve been wanting to go to Bonne Nourriture? I got reservations for tomorrow night.”
“You hate French food.”
“But I love you. And you love French food. You put up with my work, I can put up with some foie gras.”
“I don’t like foie gras. They force feed the duck to make the liver fatty. It’s cruel.”
“So… you don’t want to go?” Tom tried to sound nonchalant. He’d asked a favor of a pretty unpleasant guy to get reservations, and now owed the man.
“Of course I want to go. They were rated the best Coq au vin in the country.”
“Do I want to ask what that is?”
Joan sat up, placing her hands on Tom’s shoulders. “It means cock with wine.”
“Well,” Tom said, “we don’t have to wait until tomorrow for that. I have a pinot grigio in the fridge.”
Joan’s fingers laced through his hair. “Well, that’s half the recipe. What about the other half?”
Tom’s cell phone buzzed in his robe pocket.
Joan took her hands away from him. “Are you going to answer that?”
“No. I’m here with you.”
“What if it’s the case?”
“I’m on vacation. Roy will figure it out.”
“What if it’s Roy, in some kind of trouble?”
Tom pressed his lips together. His phone buzzed again.
“Tom, why is your phone even on if you have no intention of answering it?”
“I thought I’d turned it off.”
“You thought you turned it off, and still put it in your robe?”
“Just tell me what you want me to do, Joan.”
“I want you to be the kind of man who turns off his phone before he climbs into bed with me.”
Tom took the phone out of his pocket and pressed the button. “Done. It’s off.”
“Who was it?”
“I didn’t look.”
“Of course you looked.”
Tom couldn’t ever win an argument with Joan. She was always half a step ahead of him. Smart lady, one of the many things he loved about her.
“It was Roy.”
“Does he normally call at 2 A.M.?”
“No.”
“So this could be an emergency?”
“Yeah.”
“So you want to make love to me while thinking about Roy?”
“Yeah. No! Joan, look, I’m trying here. I’ve had a real shitty day.”
“My day was shitty, too. I spent it waiting for my boyfriend to remember that I flew in from LA to visit him.”
Tom reached for her face to stroke her cheek, and she flinched away.
“Joan, how about we just ignore the phone and pick up where we left off?”
“Can we do that, Tom? Is that even possible? We’re both going to be thinking about the call. You’re going to be wondering what the emergency was, I’m going to be thinking that another poor girl is going to die because I want to be selfish and keep my man for myself. And the fact that you didn’t shut off your phone—whether it was intentional or not—shows where your priorities really are.”
The ring startled them both. Tom’s landline, on the nightstand next to the bed.
“Are you going to get that?” Joan asked.
“I’d rather not.”
Joan picked it up, not breaking eye contact with Tom. “Hello?”
Tom heard Roy mumble something apologetic.
“It’s okay, Roy, I was already up. He’s right here.”
She held t
he phone out to Tom. He didn’t move. When her eyes narrowed to slits he took it.
“Yeah, Roy.”
“We found the shower curtain, Tom. Had a knife in it, blood still on it. Enough to link DNA.”
“That’s great, Roy. But this could have waited until morning.”
“Crime Scene Team lifted latents. Ran them at the scene. Tom, we got a match.”
Tom’s heart rate kicked up, but he kept his face and voice neutral. “Okay.”
“Tom, did you hear me? We got him. Perp is on file. Registered sex offender named Hector Valentine. Thirty-eight years old, lives in Logan Square off of Fullerton. I called Judge Harbough, warrant is meeting us at the perp’s house.”
“It’s a man? What about Tanya? Isn’t she the suspect?”
“Could be his girlfriend. Or daughter. She’s an accomplice, we know that much. Hell, maybe he dressed up as her to throw us off.”
Tom held eye contact with Joan. “Well, congrats, Roy. Call me tomorrow, let me know how it went.”
“Tom, you drunk? We need to roll on this, partner.”
“I’m on vacation. You can handle this without me.”
“Is it Joanie? She angry with you? Tom, we’re going to catch a serial killer. This is a big deal. Tell her to chill.”
“I’ll tell her,” Tom said, intending to never tell her. “But I’m not going, Roy.”
“You need to go,” Roy said.
“You need to go,” Joan said.
“See, Tom? She told you to go.”
Tom frowned. “Apparently you both can hear each other.”
“Your phone is ridiculously loud,” Joan said.
“She’s right, Tom. It’s real loud. Sorry to take your man away, Joanie, but this is big. He should be there.”
“He’s all yours, Roy. We weren’t doing anything anyway.” Joan narrowed her eyes. “I was just about to go to sleep.”
Ouch.
Tom listened as Roy gave him the address. Joan laid down and turned her back to him.