CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
An online search had told Ella everything she needed to know about the Scarecrow app.
Scarecrow is designed to help users identify and manage their fears and rapid onset anxieties. Join now for advice, encouragement, and conversations with specialized therapists.
Ella was still in her office, physically alone but connected to another human via the magic of technology. She was on loudspeaker with Amelia Wilson, her assigned tech analyst and fellow member of the Ultra-Violent Crime Unit. Perhaps the UVCU did have some advantages.
‘I’m at home, by the way,’ Amelia said. Her British accent was thick with sleep.
‘But still awake at 1 AM.’
‘That’s generally what happens someone calls you in the dead of night. You wake up. Are you ready for me to connect?’
‘Ready when you are. Will you be able to see everything?’
‘I can see everything on your screen. Give me a second.’
Ella’s screen began to lag, then a little notification in the corner popped up telling her that an IP address in Washington D.C. was now in control of her device. ‘I can see you.’
‘I certainly hope not. Right, what do you need me to look at? Why am I looking at someone’s phone data?’
‘Forget the phone,’ Ella said. She pointed at one of the folders on the screen, momentarily forgetting Amelia couldn’t see her. ‘Look at that app on the bottom row. Scarecrow. I need you to get me into that.’
‘Scarecrow,’ Amelia said. ‘Never heard of it. What is it?’
‘It’s an app for phobias. Our recent victim has an account on there, and I need you to get in there and work your magic.’
Amelia began clicking around. ‘What kind of magic?’
‘Everything. I want this woman’s conversations, pictures, voice notes, the lot.’
‘Does Vernon know about this?’
‘No, but it’s 1 AM.’
‘Believe me, I know.’
‘So I’ll tell him tomorrow.’
‘Alright. Well, Ella, you’ve got a problem. I can see it a mile off.’
Ella held her breath. ‘What?’
‘This app is third-party encrypted, which means you’re shit out of luck.’
She didn't know what it meant, but it didn't sound good. 'And in English?'
‘It’s encrypted… by a third party. It means the app developers outsource their encryption to a specialist company.’
Amelia's tone was matter-of-fact, but the implication was clear: this could be a dead end.
Ella fought against the frustration and stayed focused. She’d find a way into Scarecrow, even if it took weeks. ‘So, you can’t break in?’
'I could, but both you and I would end up unemployed and probably in jail. Not to mention it's not something you can do in a few clicks. Third-party encryptions have layers of security protocols in place. It would take ages, if it was even possible at all.'
Time was ticking, and each moment they spent hitting walls could mean the difference between catching the killer and another victim. ‘There's got to be a way. Can't we request the data from the company?’
‘Legal channels, warrants, bureaucracy. And that’s assuming the company would even cooperate. How do you think they’d react to their brand being associated with a serial killer? We might be able to have a clearer look at the surface data, but anything deeper will probably be out of reach.’
‘Surface data. I’ll take that.’
‘You say this is an app for phobias?’
‘Yeah. It gives users advice, motivational quotes, that kind of stuff. And it connects users with local therapists, which is what I’m interested in.’
‘Why?’
‘Because my unsub might be using this app to find his victims.’
Ella sat back and watched Amelia remotely violate her laptop. Lines of data began cascading like a digital waterfall. Ella watched, tried to keep up, but failed miserably.
‘Your recent victim is quite active on here, judging by her user logs. She logged in at least once daily, usually around eight PM, and has done so for the past two months.’
Ella clenched her fist in triumph, feeling like she’d taken one more step. ‘And can you see who she was talking to? Any chat logs?’
‘Hold on, I'm getting to that part.’
The thought of finally putting a name or face to this unsub sent a jolt of electricity down Ella’s spine, yet she braced herself for disappointment. So far, every lead had slipped through her fingers like sand.
‘Uh, Ella, you’re not going to like this.’
Ella’s heart sank. ‘What?’
‘It looks like she's been pretty thorough with her digital hygiene,’ Amelia explained. She circled something with her cursor. ‘See here? Most of her chat logs are gone. Deleted. There's barely anything left in her message history.’
Her frustration simmered and threatening to bubble over. ‘Why would she delete her conversations? What was she hiding?’ she murmured, more to herself than to Amelia.
‘That’s your area. Her deleted files might still be somewhere in the master database, but that’s where the encryption comes in. Only the encryption company and devs would have access to that.’
Ella planted her forehead on the table. ‘Okay, so Rebecca’s chat logs are out of the question,’ she said into the wood, the warmth of her breath blowing back on her face.
‘Right now. If you leave it with me, I can try and request access to the deleted files, but don’t ask me for a timescale.’
Ella shot back up and eyeballed the clock. Just after one AM. If the killer kept his pattern up, there could be another body within twenty-four hours. Or he could already be en route out of this damn city and into a life that didn’t involve bunk beds and a cell mate for the rest of his days.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Images of the three victims swirled around her mind like a carousel, mingling ideas and possibilities in a whirlwind of desperation.
There had to be another angle she could try.
Rebecca Morgan’s chats might be a dead end, but what about the other victims?
What if these kills had nothing to do with the church therapy group and were actually orchestrated through the Scarecrow app?
‘Amelia, can you check for individual accounts on this app? I know it might be a long shot.’
‘Doubt it. These are tantamount to medical records. You couldn’t just go to a doctor’s office and ask to see a list of patients.’
Ella pushed back her hair, holding it in a ponytail with her fist. ‘God damn it.’
‘But…’
A flame of hope ignited in Ella’s core. ‘But what? Please say you’ve got a magic trick up your sleeve.’
‘You can find those details, providing the app has a community section. You know, like forums, discussion pages, that kind of thing. Those kinds of places require sign-ups, verifications, cell phone numbers, email addresses, and a lot of users can choose what information to broadcast publicly.'
Ella slammed her palms on the table. ‘Yes! That could be exactly what we need. What do you need to know?’
Amelia navigated through the digital maze to a new location and said, ‘Your victims’ names.’
‘Julia Dawson, Thomas Barker.’
‘Julia Dawson… Thomas Barker,’ Amelia repeated. Ella held her breath, fearing that any comfort might disqualify her from a breakthrough. ‘Ugh, nothing. No user profiles by those names.’
Ella’s face fell flat. ‘Nothing? Are you sure?’
‘Pretty sure, but let me try something else. Do you have their email addresses?’
Ella's eyes lit up. ‘Yes, their emails. Hold on.’ She rummaged through the files on her desk and landed on the victim profiles.
‘Here,’ Ella said, pointing to the details in Julia’s profile even though Amelia couldn’t see it. ‘Julia’s is j.dawson84@.’
Amelia typed it in. New digital pathways emerged. Ella watched closely, still unsure what she was looking at.
But then it appeared.
‘Got you!’ Amelia said down the phone. ‘Julia Dawson is registered on here. Username is Mockingbird84.
Ella fought the urge to punch the air. Premature celebrations always led to disappointment. ‘Yes! And try the next one. Tom_the_great_one@.’
The screen flickered. Data streaming past. ‘Tom… the great one,’ Amelia said. ‘Bingo! Present and accounted for. Username is BuriedInThePast.’
Ella breathed deeply and stared at the data in front of her, reaching beyond the physical confines to the uncharted territories of her mind. All of her victims were on the Scarecrow app, and that wasn’t a coincidence.
‘Posts? Activity?’ Ella pleaded.
‘Sorry. No public activity on either account. Zero posts. That doesn’t mean they weren’t chatting in private, though. But again, you’d have to go to the encryption company or the devs for that.’
Ella dropped her head down again, lost in the swirling grain on her desk. The revelation that all of her victims were on the Scarecrow app was a breakthrough. But like an elusive shadow, the deeper secrets of their interactions remained hidden, guarded by the fortress of encryption.
Then something struck her.
‘Devs?’ she asked.
‘Developers. The architects. Are we finished here?’
A sudden plan began to crystallize in Ella's mind. ‘Yes, you’ve helped me crack this wide open. Please get back to bed. I’ll tell Vernon you helped me tomorrow.’
‘Glad to be of assistance. Hope you get back to base soon.’
Ella was running on fumes, but there was no timeout in games of death. She was on the trail of something, and she’d just found her next move.