Detective Navarro wasted no time. He pulled out his radio and called in for cybercrime support.
"This is bigger than we thought," he muttered to Officer Carter. "If someone's running a surveillance network, they're not just invading privacy. They're committing a felony."
Carter nodded, her expression serious. "And if we don't stop them now, who knows how far they've already gone?"
Darius, still seated at his laptop, was already digging deeper. He wasn't a hacker, but he knew enough about network security to trace where the data was being sent. He opened the IP logs and froze.
"Wait... this can't be right."
Navarro looked up. "What?"
Darius turned the laptop screen so they could see. "The data isn't going to some random server. It's being sent to an address right here in the neighborhood."
Melanie's eyes widened. "You mean someone close by is behind this?"
Darius nodded. "It's coming from a house just a few doors down."
Navarro's expression darkened. "Can you pinpoint exactly which one?"
Darius worked fast, cross-referencing connection timestamps with signal strength. Within minutes, he had a match. His stomach dropped. He recognized the address.
Melanie did, too.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "That's..."
Darius cut her off, voice cold. "That's Brandon's house."
Brandon Foster: Melanie's own nephew, a 22-year-old college student who had moved in with her a few months ago. He was quiet, always on his computer, barely socialized.
Now, suddenly, things were making a whole lot of sense.
Melanie's face went pale. "No, no, that doesn't make any sense. Brandon isn't... he wouldn't..."
Carter stepped in. "We need to talk to him. Now."
Melanie hesitated. She didn't want to believe it, but deep down, something in her gut told her it was true.
"I'll take you to him," she murmured.
Darius stood. "I'm coming, too."
Navarro gave him a sharp look. "No. You stay here. Let us handle this."
Darius clenched his jaw. He hated sitting back when he was the one who uncovered everything, but he also knew pushing back wouldn't help.
"Fine," he muttered. "But you'd better get the truth out of him."
But the truth—it was even worse than they imagined.
Melanie's hands shook as she led Navarro and Carter down the street to her house. Every step felt heavier than the last. Brandon, the kid she had taken in, the one she helped through school... it couldn't be him. And yet, deep down, a voice in her head whispered: What if it is?
She opened the front door, calling out, "Brandon? Can you come downstairs for a minute?"