“I’m really sorry that you’re having trouble with your computer,” I say as he leads us into the living room. “We’ve had a rash of problems lately that seem to be related to a conflict in the BIOS, caused by an improper installation of the software.”
As Roger looks at me, rolling his eyes, I continue, “We should be out of here in less than an hour. Don’t let us stop you from whatever you’re doing.”
He doesn’t say a word and stands behind Roger, watching him as he boots up the computer. I was afraid he wouldn’t leave us alone long enough to get a look around the house, so I have another plan. Melanie should be coming to the door any minute now. Hearing the doorbell, Jackson mutters, “Now what?” as he goes to answer the door.
After he walks out of the room, Roger says, “Conflict in the BIOS, caused by improper installation? What kind of crap is that?”
“Never mind, smart ass,” I say while heading out of the room.
“Hi, I’ve got a flat tire,” Melanie says, “could you help me change it? I don’t know anything about cars.”
“No, I’m busy, you should call a tow truck,” he says and starts to close the door.
Melanie immediately starts crying, “I don’t have time to wait for a tow truck. My mother is dying. I have to get to the hospital. Can’t you please help me?”
She’s good. I can’t imagine anyone refusing to help her. As Jackson follows her to the car, I tell Roger to watch out the window and let me know when he’s coming back. The first place I look for evidence is in the garage. After checking the trunk of the car and not finding anything, I decide to check in the basement. While heading down the stairs, I start worrying that I won’t be able to hear Roger yell, so I call him on his cell phone.
“Did you find something?” he asks excitedly.
“No, I’m going into the basement to look around. Can you see Melanie’s car?”
“Yeah, it’s right out front. It’s not going to take him very long. He already has the spare tire out and is setting up the jack. Melanie’s talking to him non-stop, trying to distract him, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much good. I bet she’s pissed. She’s used to guys paying more attention to her.”
“Just keep watching and let me know when he’s done. I see something that looks suspicious, hold on a second.”
There’s a pile of rugs and towels that seems out of place in the clean, tidy basement. As I get closer, I can see blood seeping out of the rags. I carefully pull back the top layer. There’s an outline of a body under the pile. I’m not crazy about looking at a dead body, but I’ve gone this far. I remove a blood soaked rug. The dead woman’s eyes are open, staring blankly at me. I remember Diane, dying in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say to the dead woman lying there, “I promise he won’t get away with it.”
My doubts about invading people’s privacy are gone; this is my reason for doing it. People have to be held responsible for their actions. I don’t know how long I stood there, staring into those eyes, thinking about Diane, when I suddenly realize Roger’s yelling into the phone.
“What are you doing?” he says. “Can you hear me? He’s coming! Get up here, quick!”
Running to the stairs, I tell Roger, “Try to stall him. Go to the door and keep him from coming into the living room.”
“Stall him how? He’s already coming in the door.”
“I don’t know, use your imagination, tell him you’re thirsty or something. You’ve got to give me time to sneak back into the room.”
I make it up the basement stairs before Jackson sees me. “What’s going on?” he says, “What are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for Roger … Oh, there you are,” I say to Roger standing behind him. “Come on, we’re done here, we should get going.”
Jackson looks at us for a moment and then pulls out a gun, hidden in his waistband. “You’re not going anywhere. Get back down into the basement, both of you—now!”
I’m trying to think of a way out of this when suddenly his gun goes off. A bullet crashes through the window and Jackson falls to the floor. Melanie’s standing behind him holding a tire iron, a big smile on her face.
“Wow,” she says, “That was exciting. I’ve always wanted to do that. You guys really know how to have fun.”
While we’re tying Jackson up, I say, “We need to plan our story to tell the cops. We can’t let them know how we found out about the murder. I’ll tell them we were here working on his computer and I went into the basement to check his internet cable and found the body.”
“You can tell them whatever you want,” Melanie says. “I’m getting the hell out of here before they arrive. I’ve got a few skeletons in my closet I haven’t told you about.”
“That makes it a little difficult,” I say. “How are we going to explain him getting hit over the head with a tire iron?”
“I don’t know,” Melanie says, while heading out the door, “but any story you come up with will be a lot easier for the cops to believe if they don’t find me here. I’ll meet you back at the shop. This was great; I can’t wait to see what else is going on.”
7. Finding Spiderman
We’ve nicknamed the killer Spiderman and have been working on a facial recognition program to find him. The program searches all the computers on our network, looking for the spider tattoo on his face. We know it’s working because it’s notified us several times. The only problem is that it registers any type of irregularity on a person’s face. Most of our hits have been teenagers with bad cases of acne.
“Hey, we’ve got a hit on someone right in our neighborhood,” Roger says while browsing our network stats.
Many of the computers in our network aren’t nearby; some are even in different countries. We monitor only the ones that are within a one hundred mile radius and ignore the others.
“Let’s bring it up and take a look,” I say, expecting to see another teenager surfing the web. I’m shocked—Diane’s murderer is staring at me. The memory of her lying on the floor, bleeding to death, comes rushing back to me.
“Mr. Gotweb,” Roger says, “Are you okay?
“It’s him,” I’m finally able to say, “That’s the son-of-a-bitch that killed Diane.”
Roger quickly checks the location of the computer.
“2107 Trail Run, that’s only a few miles away. What should we do?”
I jump out of my chair and grab the gun I keep in my desk drawer.
Roger says, “Wait, shouldn’t we call the police? I’ll tell them I live at 2109, and someone has broken into the house next door.”
“I don’t care what you do,” I say as I’m headed out of the shop, “But I’m going to catch this guy.”
I key the address into my car’s GPS; it’s only five minutes away. I can’t believe Diane’s murderer is so close. I’m hardly aware of the traffic around me; it’s amazing I don’t have a wreck. I park a few houses away to get a look at the place. As I walk up to the small ranch style house, I notice the front door is open.
“Hello,” I call inside, “Is anyone home?”
Entering the house, I find the room where I’d seen Spiderman on the computer. He’s gone, I must have just missed him, but the computer is still there. I leave the house so I won’t be there when the police arrive. I’m disappointed—I was so close, but now I’m even more determined to find him.
Driving back to the shop, I think about the killer breaking into the home and using the computer, just like the last time he was spotted. What was he doing?
I call Roger to talk to him about it.
“What happened?” he asks when he answers the phone.
“He wasn’t there, but can you check to see what he was doing on the computer?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he replies. “I’ve checked the logs. He was on the bank account of the home’s owner. It looks like he was stealing money and transferring it to another account.”
“So that’s why he’s breaking into h
omes.” That gives me an idea. “See what you can find out about his account. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
When I get back to the store, Roger has some news for me.
“He was transferring money to an off-shore account. They’re used to hide money from the government. If they’re set up right, they’re untraceable. Evidently, Spiderman isn’t very smart, he didn’t hide his trail very well.
I ask Roger, “Is there a way to monitor his account to see when he transfers money to it? If the computer he’s using to transfer the money is on our network, we’d know where he is.”
“We could do it, but it might take a while,” he says. “But you have to know the odds are against us finding him again.
“I know,” I say, “All we can do is try. We might get lucky.”
Over the next few weeks, we watch as Spiderman transfers money into his overseas account.
“Man,” Roger says, “He’s averaging about twelve homes a day. Each time he transfers anywhere from $300 to $1500. He’s making around ten thousand dollars a day.”
He was in and out of each house in a matter of minutes. Most of his victims probably never even know they were robbed. It’s frustrating to watch and I’m tempted to call the police, but I want to get him for killing Diane, not for theft.
Finally, we get lucky; he’s using a computer on our network.
“There you are,” I say to his face on my monitor, “I’ve found you and you’re not getting away this time.”
Our plan is to get there before he leaves and follow him. We know he won’t be there for long, so we have to hurry. I call Melanie as I head out the door.
“We’ve got him—he’s on the east side near Highway 24, on Radiant Drive. I’m hoping he’ll work that area for a while.”
“Okay,” she says, “I’ll meet you there.”
We know that once Spiderman starts working, he usually break into several homes in the same neighborhood. I’m still a few minutes from his location when Roger calls.
“He’s starting the transaction, are you almost there?”
“You’ve got to give me more time. Can you use the Fainting Goat?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’d probably give up and head on to the next place. I’ll try to slow his computer down without making him get too frustrated and leave.”
“I’ll stay on the line, tell me what’s going on.”
Roger begins opening programs on the computer Spiderman’s using, running them in the background.
I’m only two blocks from the house when he says, “It didn’t work. He’s done. He’s already left the house. Do you see him?”
“I’m not there yet,” I tell Roger. “Wait … There’s a cable van slowly driving down the street, maybe that’s him.”
“It would make sense,” Roger says. “No one would be suspicious of a cable guy working in the neighborhood.”
“I’m going to follow him. Call Melanie and tell her what’s going on. Tell her to park nearby, I’ll call her when I’m ready.”
The cable van drives a few blocks and stops. I drive past him slowly, trying to get a look at him without being too obvious. He’s sitting in the van looking at a clipboard, so I can’t see his face. I park around the corner and walk back towards the house. He’s standing at the back of his van with the door open, and when I get close he shuts it and turns around. I see his face—it’s him. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to stop from grabbing him by the throat. Trying to appear calm, I say good morning and keep walking. I want to turn around to make sure he’s not driving away, but I know he’s watching me, so I walk to the end of the block and turn left. I wait a few moments, take a deep breath, and peek around the corner. The van is still there. I see him as he goes around the back of a house.
I quickly call Melanie. “I’m at the corner of Elm and Radiant. Come pick me up.”
The first thing Melanie asks when I get in the car is, “Are you sure it’s him?”
“Yep, it’s him. Drive down this street. He’s pretending to be a cable man, that’s his van. He went into the blue house a few minutes ago. If things go as usual, he should be leaving soon.”
Spiderman spends the next two hours breaking into houses in the neighborhood. We follow him as he finally leaves the area. He drives to a part of town that used to be the business district and parks the van inside an old warehouse. We see a light come on in a room on the second floor and suspect we’ve found where he lives.
As I’m getting out of the car, I tell Melanie, “OK, I’m going in. Wish me luck.”
The look of concern on Melanie’s face surprises me. She’s never given me any reason to think she sees me as anything more than a co-worker. She’s serious when she says, “Are you sure you want to do this? What if the plan doesn’t work? Maybe we should call the police and let them handle it.”
“I know it’s dangerous, but I have to do this. If we call the police, you know what’ll happen. He might get charged with attempted murder, if his last victim can identify him, but he could get away with only theft. I’m not willing to take that chance. Everything will be fine. Just stick to the plan, and try not to worry.”
I walk around the building looking for a way in. It figures that a thief would be paranoid about someone breaking in. On the back of the building, I notice a broken window. After breaking out some of the glass, I’m able to reach inside and unlock it. I slowly open it and climb in, trying to be as quiet as possible.
The inside of the old warehouse is dark, with barely enough light to see by. After stumbling around for a while, I find the van and quickly attach the small magnetic tracker I brought with me. If something goes wrong, at the very least he’ll be easy to find. I find my way to a door that leads outside and unlock it. Suddenly I’m grabbed from behind and feel a knife pressed against my back.
“What’re you doing in here?” a voice behind me says, “Who are you?”
“I’m looking for somewhere to spend the night. I thought this place was empty. I’m sorry, I was just leaving.”
“You’re not leaving,” he says. “Upstairs—now.”
At the top of the stairs, we enter his living area. It doesn’t look like anyone lives here. There’s very little furniture and empty pizza boxes are scattered everywhere. “Sit down,” he says, while shoving me towards the only chair in the room.
While he ties me to the chair, I can’t help but stare at him.
“Wait a minute,” he says, “didn’t I see you walking down the street today?”
“No,” I say, “that’s impossible. I just got in town an hour ago.”
“Bullshit. I don’t know why you’re following me, but you better start talking or you’re not leaving this building alive.”
He places the knife against my throat; the sharp blade slices into my skin. I feel warm blood starting to trickle down my neck.
“Why are you following me?” he says.
Trying to remain calm, I say, “I’m not following you. You have to believe me—I didn’t know anyone lived here.”
“Well, if that’s true, then I guess you’re just unlucky, because you’ve picked the wrong place to break into,” he says, while pressing the knife harder into my neck.
“Wait,” I yell, “You killed my wife! At least tell me why before you kill me.”
He takes a step back and says, “So, you are following me. I killed your wife? You’ll have to give me a little more to go on, I’ve killed a few women.”
The smirk on his face infuriates me. “You son-of-a-bitch, you killed Diane for a damn laptop!”
“Oh, the computer store bitch. Yeah, I remember her. Was that your wife? She was hot. It’s too bad I didn’t have more time with her before I killed her. It was her own fault. All she had to do was give me the laptop. I was just getting my business started back then and I didn’t have the money to buy one. But she had to be a hero and tried to stop me, so I stabbed her.”
Smiling at Diane’s killer, I say, “Thanks,
that’s all I needed to hear.”
“Drop the knife, and get on the floor,” Melanie says as she rushes into the room. “Go ahead, scumbag, give me a reason to shoot.”
Seeing the anger on Melanie’s face and the gun pointed at him, Spiderman drops his knife and quickly falls to the floor.
Melanie rushes over and ties his hands behind his back. As she starts untying me, she says, “You really cut it close, but your plan worked. Roger’s downstairs and the police are on their way.”
After I’m untied, I take my cell phone out of my pocket and say to him, “I’ve recorded your confession, but that’s not enough for me.” I tell Melanie, “Give me the gun. You should get out of here before the police arrive. I don’t want any witnesses to this.”
“Jim, listen to me,” Melanie says as I stand over my wife’s killer with the gun pointed at him. “You don’t want to do this. We have his confession. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
“Turn over,” I say while kicking him, “I want you to see my face when I kill you.”
Refusing to turn over, Spiderman begins to cry, begging for his life, “Don’t kill me, please. I’m sorry. Please don’t shoot.”
Melanie smiles and says, “Satisfied?”
I wasn’t going to shoot him—I just wanted to scare him. I smile back at her and say, “For now, but it sure is tempting.”
“I know,” she says, “he deserves to die. But you’re better than that. Let him have his day in court.”
We plan to tell the police we saw the killer driving down the street and followed him here, then I broke in to let him catch me so I could get him to confess to killing Diane. There’ll be a lot of questions, but we’ve got our stories straight. We aren’t going to tell them anything about our network. It’ll be hard for Melanie, but she’s decided it’s time to deal with her past. She hasn’t told me what she’s done, but she promised me she’d be able to straighten things out. She and Roger are standing with me as the paramedics work on my neck. Melanie is smiling and holding my hand.
“We’re going to be fine,” I tell them, “We’ll meet back at the store after the police are done questioning us.“
“It’ll probably take a while before they’re done with me,” Melanie says. “But, I’ll eventually meet you boys there. I wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun.”