I set the photo aside and turn my attention to his computer. I hesitate before pressing the power button. It feels intrusive, like opening a door I have no right to enter. But if there’s an important clue left behind that could help us figure out what happened to him, I need to look.

The monitor hums to life, casting long shadows in the dim room. I log in using the password Gabe gave me months ago, just in case of emergencies. His desktop is neat, with only a few icons scattered across the screen.

A folder labeled “Pending Cases” catches my eye, but before I can click on it, a soft ding breaks the silence.

My heart skips a beat. The notification is subtle, just a small box in the corner of the screen.

“Security Alert: New Activity Detected.”

I frown and click on the alert. It opens a program I don’t recognize—a tracking system of some sort. A list of names appears on the screen, each linked to a series of IP addresses and timestamps.

“Activity Source: 153.31.100.95”

“What is this?” I whisper, the words barely audible.

Gabe set up alerts to notify him if anyone accessed these files. Why? What are these numbers? Who is behind them looking into records on Theo?

I need to know what those numbers are. I pull up a search engine and type in the numbers.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I don’t even bother clicking on the first link that pops up. The description makes my eyes bulge out of my head.

153.31.100.0 - 153.31.100.255 is an IP address range owned by FBI Criminal Justice Information Systems and located in the United States.

What does the FBI want with Theo?

Exiting out of the search engine I click on the alert, digging deeper. The program shows a log of past activity, and it isn’t the first time someone has accessed these files. But this is different—this isn’t routine. Whoever is doing this is digging into Theo’s background, not just the official case files.

The first thing they access is an old incident report from high school, a senior prank gone wrong. Then, the police report from when he was nine—his parents’ deaths. My stomach knots as I watch the hacker move through each file in real-time.

The next thing they open is Walter and Elise’s autopsies. I skim the document even though I’ve read it before. Blunt force trauma. Internal injuries. Cause of death: automobile accident.

Then, they access another police report. My breath catches. This isn’t one I remember seeing before. The report states that Walter and Elise were on their way home from Aubrey’s house when they crashed.

Why were they at Aubrey’s?

Another alert pops up. A new name appears on the list.

Aubrey.