Page 89 of Taken Off Camera
“Not with conventional methods,” Milo answers, frustration evident in the tight line of his mouth. “The source material is too degraded.”
My chair creaks as I shift forward, staring at the surveillance grid. “What about cross-referencing with cell tower data?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “If you pull the timestamp from when he entered the building, you could pull IMEI signals from the local tower.”
Six pairs of eyes turn toward me with expressions ranging from surprised to speculative.
“We considered that.” Sebastian studies me with renewed interest. “But without a warrant?—”
“You don’t need one if you backdoor through the tower maintenance protocol,” I interrupt, the technical details flowing naturally where the discussion of murder didn’t. “Most carriers still run legacy systems with authentication vulnerabilities. Their security patches focus on customer data, not infrastructure access.”
The room falls silent for a beat, and Gabriel exchanges a look with Ezra that I can’t interpret.
“How would you approach that?” Ezra asks, the casual question belied by his sharp assessment.
My fingers tap the table as I explain, the familiar territory of network vulnerabilities steadying me. “Spoof a maintenance ticket to the local tower. The system grants temporary access for diagnostics. Once you’re in the maintenance channel, pivot to signal logs using admin credentials that never change because no one thinks to update them.”
The words feel comfortable in my mouth, like slipping into well-worn slippers after a day in too-tight dress clothes. This is my world, the place where I have power, where I understand the rules and how to bend them.
“And you’ve done this before?” Gabriel’s question carries a note of genuine curiosity.
“Similar approaches,” I answer carefully. “For protective purposes only.”
Sebastian’s lips curve, his pride warming the cold, empty places inside of me. “Micah has a particular skill set we haven’t fully appreciated.”
“Clearly,” Milo murmurs, already typing into his tablet.
My momentary confidence falters as Ezra pulls up another document, this one a detailed analysis of Travis’s online behavior labeled “Liability Assessment”. The clinical term turns my stomach. They’re discussing a living person as if he’s a spreadsheet entry, a risk to be calculated and managed.
I sink back in my chair, the leather too slick beneath my sweaty palms. The technical discussion had pulled me forward, engaged me as an equal. But this cold evaluation pushes me away again, reminding me that the Rockfords approach everything, even human lives, as assets or liabilities.
“Primary leverage points include employment stability and prior legal vulnerabilities.” Ezra highlights sections of the report. “Secondary pressure can be applied through financial channels or residential security.”
“English, please,” Saint interjects, his boot an impatienttap-tapon the floor.
Ezra barely spares him a glance. “We can threaten his ability to gain employment, expose his past, or freeze his accounts. Separately or in combination, we can make it impossible for him to live anywhere near here.”
My fingers curl into the armrests as the conversation continues, its terminology growing increasingly detached.
“Neutralization options.”
“Containment strategies.”
“Acceptable collateral impact.”
Each phrase strips away Travis’s humanity, reducing him to a problem requiring a solution.
Yet when they shift back to the technical challenges of how he might have masked his digital footprint and how to trace the RF receivers for the hidden cameras, I find myself leaning forward again, drawn into the discussion by the familiar.
“The transmitter range tells us he had to be within a hundred feet,” I offer, pointing to the specs of one tiny camera. “But he could route the signal through a secondary device to extend the range.”
Sebastian rubs his chin in consideration. “We can run a frequency analysis.”
“Yes.” Warmth spreads through me at being able to share this part of my life with someone who understands what I’m talking about. “Each relay point creates a signature disruption pattern.”
For a moment, I’m not the victim to be protected or the Omega to be sheltered. I’m a collaborator, contributing valuable insights to the operation. The feeling of being respected is intoxicating.
Then Gabriel mentions “cleanup procedures,” and reality crashes me back into my seat. The scale of their response dwarfs anything I could have imagined when I first blocked Travis online. This isn’t about protection anymore. It’s about the Rockfords eliminating a threat to what’s theirs.
Which now includes me.
