WEBCAM (7 page)

CHAPTER 12

Kendal picked up her cell phone.

“Hello?”

At first, there was silence. Then:

“Do you think you have suffered enough for your crimes?”

The voice sounded weird. Far away. “Hello?”

“Mercy. Please.”

“Who is this?” Kendal asked.

“Erinyes does not know mercy. Only punishment.”

“Don’t hurt me anymore.”

“It is your sins that have hurt you. I am here to give Penance.”

Then there was a cracking sound, and a scream that made all the fine hairs on Kendal’s arms stand on end.

The horrible sounds continued. Smacking and screaming, and Kendal realized she was listening to someone being beaten.

She hung up, holding the phone at arm’s length.

Caller Unknown.

What the hell had just happened?

Kendal hurried out of her bedroom, into the kitchen, brushing past Linda, grabbing a glass drying in the sink, and pouring herself some water from the tap. She sucked it down in a few gulps.

“Thirsty much?” Linda asked, laughing.

Kendal didn’t answer, pouring herself another glassful.

“Hey, girl, you okay?”

Kendal finished the water and sucked in a breath. “I just got a really weird phone call.”

“Like obscene weird? Some guy yanking his crank and moaning? You lucky slut! I never get calls like that.”

“I mean like someone being beaten.”

“That’s even kinkier.”

“Really beaten. Screaming for their lives beaten.”

Linda raised an eyebrow. “Was it some kind of joke?”

Kendal leaned against the counter, her shoulders slumping. “If it was, it wasn’t funny.”

“Who was it from?”

“It said caller unknown.”

“You can *67 or *69 him to call him back, even if it’s unknown.”

“I don’t want to call him back.”

“Give me your cell.”

Kendal hesitated, then handed Linda her phone. Linda’s thumbs were a blur on the screen.

“When did you get the call?”

“Just a minute or two ago.”

“There’s no record of it.”

“What?”

“The last call you got was yesterday.”

“But someone just—”

“Could you have deleted it?”

Kendal’s face pinched. “I don’t know.”

“If you deleted it, we can’t call it back.”

Linda handed the phone over. Kendal stared at it, wondering if it really happened.

Had she been asleep?

Dreaming?

Hallucinating?

Hallucinations were one of the big symptoms of schizophrenia. Another one was paranoia. Thinking people were watching you.

Kendal took an easy look around at all of the cameras in the kitchen. People actually
were
watching her.

But were they out to get her?

She thought about the van following her on the way to school. Had that been real? Had the chat with Allec2? The phone call she just got?

Or were past afflictions coming back to haunt her?

“Shy?” Linda asked, using her screen name. “You look like you’re seriously freaking out.”

“I think I just need to take a walk. Can you come with me?”

“History essay. I need to cut and paste some Wikipedia pages and change enough so it passes the sniff test. My prof searches phrases on Google.”

Kendal gripped her arm. “Just to the corner, get some ice cream or something. My treat.”

“You know I’m dieting, bitch.”

“Fine. We’ll go for celery. Please?”

“I heard celery has negative calories. It actually burns more calories to chew it than you digest.”

“So let’s go. I’ll buy you ten pounds of celery, and you’ll be a size 2 by the time we get back.”

Linda made a face like she was severely constipated. “Ooh, it’s tempting, but I really have to do this paper. I’ve played around enough today.”

Linda left the kitchen. Kendal stared at her phone again.

Had I erased the call?

Or, maybe, had Linda erased the call?

Is it still paranoia if everyone is actually out to get you?

Kendal closed her eyes. She thought about her father. All the things he’d done to her. All the things he’d threatened to do.

But he was gone. Long gone. Kendal needed the webcam money, but if there had been a single chance in a billion that her father could somehow find her, she would have run away with the clothes on her back and not stopped until the soles of her shoes had worn down to nothing.

Kendal opened her eyes, forcing herself not to stare at any of the cameras, but feeling them on her body like hands pawing at her. She had to get out of there. Immediately.

She counted her steps—eighteen—to the front door, touched the knob three times before turning it, and then began the six hundred and eight step trip to the corner store.

Twenty-nine steps into her journey she shivered. It was cold, and she hadn’t taken a coat. She crossed her arms, hugging herself, and picked up the pace.

Turning the corner at one hundred and fifty-five steps, Kendal saw the van. The same one that might have followed her earlier. Dark, tinted windows, creeping along under the speed limit.

Coming toward her.

Kendal froze. Should she run? Call the police? Pinch herself to make sure it wasn’t a psychotic delusion?

The van pulled up alongside her and stopped, idling there.

Run!
Kendal told herself.

But she’d forgotten her count.

As before, Kendal couldn’t draw a breath. Her legs began to tremble, but her feet might as well have grown roots.

The corner was 155. She knew that. How many steps had she gone past that point? Ten? Fifteen?

The side panel door of the van inched open.

Kendal cast a frantic look around, seeking help. Up ahead, coming her way, was a police car.

I need to scream. If I scream, the police will stop.

But her lungs were as frozen as her feet. She watched, her eyes blurry with tears, as the cop car rolled past.

The van door opened. It was dark inside, but Kendal thought she saw a figure crouched inside. Someone wearing black. But it was strange, almost like a shadow rather than a person.

Where did I leave off?!?

Kendal began to mentally count up from 155, hoping a number would seem familiar. She was getting dizzy from the lack of air, and the shadow inside the van seemed to shift and twist, as if coiling up to pounce.

One seventy-two, one seventy-three…

That was it! One seventy-three!

She sucked in a breath and began to sprint back toward her sorority house, running as fast as she could count. When she made it home, panting and shaking all over, she was trying to hold her key steady enough to get it in the lock when her cell phone vibrated with a text message.

Kendal didn’t want to look.

She looked anyway.

You can run. But I know where you live.

Kendal turned slowly around, and saw the black van parked only a few meters away.

Then the world went swirly, her legs went rubber, and she passed out.

CHAPTER 13

“Detective Nafisi?” Tom asked, eyeballing the man standing next to his desk.

The man extended his hand, and shook Tom’s with surprising force. “Call me Firoz.”

“Tom.”

“I wanted to do this in person, Tom, for two reasons. First, I wanted to meet you. I heard about South Carolina, what you and Roy Lewis went through. Must have been intense.”

Tom nodded. “What’s the second reason?”

“I found something on Kendal Hefferton’s laptop, and I need to confirm it in person.” Firoz looked at the empty chair across from Tom. “May I?”

“Please.”

Firoz dragged it over next to Tom, then turned it around and straddled it like it was a horse, propping his arms up on the back. “I heard you were tortured,” Firoz said.

Tom didn’t mind a man who was direct, but something about Firoz was off-putting. Tom felt like he was being scrutinized.

“What did you find?” he asked, ignoring the comment.

Firoz stared at Tom for a moment, then said, “The victim was having problems with one of her online clients. He was cyberstalking her.”

“Is it traceable?”

Again Firoz paused before answering. “To a degree. But the better the cyberstalker, the harder he is to trace. Do you know a lot about computers?”

“As much as anyone, I guess.”

“When devices communicate with each other over a computer network, each has a unique Internet Protocol address. This can be traceable, unless someone takes steps to make sure it isn’t. If it’s something like an email, the IP is recorded. But in a chatroom, like the victim used for her webcam modeling, tracing after the fact is practically impossible. Once the stalker disconnects, there is no way to find him. But Kendal was smart. She kept screen shots of the harassment. The last time, he used the name
Tilphousia.
His threats match up to the way she was killed.”

“How do you spell Tilphousia?” Tom asked, pen in hand.

Firoz spelled it out.

“Do you have those screenshots?”

“I emailed them to you before I came up. Check to see if you got them.”

Tom turned to his computer screen, accessed his department email, and saw he’d gotten a new one from superhackercop17. Tom clicked on it, then clicked on the attachments, creating a slideshow of screen captures. Half the screen was a picture of Kendal Hefferton, a snapshot of her live feed. She was in lingerie, looking disgusted. Tom could understand why. The other half of the screen was chat text. Tom read through some of Tilphousia’s threats and felt himself become disgusted as well.

“Yeah, he’s quite a psycho, isn’t he?” Firoz asked.

Tom nodded.

“Keep looking. The next to last jpeg is of an email Kendal received. It’s a different name, but the tone is the same.”

Tom found it and began to read.

Little girls who do naughty things must be punished. Accept your fate and accept your Penance. Vengeance comes from the blood of Uranus, whore.

“Can you trace the email?” Tom asked.

“I already did. Click on the last picture.”

Tom did. He stared at the screen, blinking a few times, confused.

“Don’t you recognize it?” Firoz asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t understand,” Tom admitted.

“What’s so hard to understand?” Firoz asked. “That email, the one I found on Kendal’s laptop. Do you know where it came from?”

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“Because it was sent from your account.”

CHAPTER 14

Erinyes watches.

It is easy to watch when there are so many cameras.

Cameras in businesses.

Cameras on streets.

Cameras in homes. Security cameras. Nanny cams.

Cameras on computers. On tablets. On cellphones.

Taking a selfie? Erinyes can see it.

Video chatting? Erinyes can watch it.

Surfing the web? Erinyes can turn on your webcam and stare at you, and you won’t even know it.

Does your ebook reader have a camera?

Look at it. Examine the edges. Is that a camera on the front, up on top?

Are you being watched right now?

What is that on the bottom? A microphone?

Is someone listening to you breathe? Hearing you clear your throat? Recording your every movement, every sound?

How secure is your network?

How unbreakable is your password?

Do you think your firewall is unbeatable?

Do you think your antivirus software can protect you?

Do you really think you’re safe?

There is no such thing as safe. If you are connected to the Internet, if you’re part of a network, if you’re online or on the phone, surfing, talking, chatting, texting, you can be seen.

Are you frightened?

You look frightened.

CHAPTER 15

Tom stared hard at Firoz. “You think I sent this email?”

“You tell me. Veteran cop, went through a horrible experience, became dangerously unhinged, began stalking webcam models.”

Tom was about to protest, but Firoz smiled for the first time. “No, it isn’t you. No offense, man, but you don’t have the brains for it.”

“You went from practically accusing me of murder, to saying I’m an idiot.”

“Look at your desk, Detective. What are those?” Firoz pointed.

“My notes.”

“Written on paper? In pen? What are you, a Neanderthal? Don’t you know there are apps for that? Have you heard of typing? Voice to text? A stylus for digital notes?”

“A pen never runs out of batteries,” Tom said.

“Move over.” Firoz nudged Tom aside, his hands a blur on his keyboard. A few screens flashed by, almost too fast for Tom to see. “You were spoofed.”

“Spoofed?”

“Someone forged your sender address, made it look like you were sending the email. When was the last time you ran your antivirus program?”

“Uh…”

Firoz clicked the mouse a few times. “The answer you’re looking for is
never
. So either you have a Trojan or a worm, or someone used a fake mailer. I’m going to need to do an analysis.”

“That’s why you wanted to meet,” Tom said. “To check out my computer.”

“Or to arrest you if you tried to get away,” Firoz grinned.

“How long is this going to take?” Tom asked. He wanted to get a closer look at the screen captures from the victim’s computer that Firoz had emailed him.

“An hour. Maybe more. Depends if you have an infection, and how bad it is.” Firoz dug a pen drive out of his pocket and plugged it into one of Tom’s USB ports. “I brought some basic tools with me. If we’re lucky, and this guy hacked your computer, maybe I can find him.”

“Can you print up those screen shots for me?”

“Print?” Firoz said the word like it was an expletive. “Why you want to kill trees, man? Don’t you like trees?”

“I wanted to—”

“Don’t you have email on your cell phone? Wait, you don’t still have a flip phone, do you? Tell me you’ve got one of those old Motorola RAZRs with the clamshell case.” Firoz began to giggle.