Page 24 of Just Tonight

But before she could look, Connor killed the call. He did so immediately, before Cami could even see whose name was on the screen.

That wasn’t like Connor. He always answered his phone, even if it was an unknown number that Cami thought was likely to be a telemarketer. Connor was polite to everyone. Cami had never heard him be rude.

Killing the call was highly uncharacteristic, and the tense silence that followed for a few beats felt loaded. Cami now felt extremely nervous. She strongly suspected that it was to do with Bill Oertel.

Connor wasn’t saying, though, and she didn’t have a chance to ask because they turned into the road where Debbie’s apartment building was located, and she was sidetracked, all her focus now sharply centered on whether her theory would be correct.

The building was an old, gracious one, set in a more historic part of Boston, and as they went in – checking with the security guard who was now stationed downstairs – Cami was wondering if Debbie had family money. This wasn’t your typical student accommodation. She guessed that she must have had some support in place. She was lucky. Cami’s thoughts went back to her own parents and the conflicted relationship she’d had with them ever since Jenna’s disappearance. Some things couldn’t be healed. Perhaps that relationship never would be. At any rate, she’d cut ties with them and had paid her own way for everything she'd needed over and above her scholarship.

“We’re here to view number five,” Connor told the guard, presenting his FBI credentials. “Were you here at the time of the murder?”

The security guard, wearing a smart black jacket, shook his head.

“They had a remote access system in place, but straight after the murder, the residents decided to put in physical security as well, and got hold of our firm,” he explained.

“Can we get the key, then?” Connor asked.

"Here you are," he said. "The family was here yesterday from Atlanta, asking when they would be able to go in and collect her belongings. I refused them entry because the crime scene tape is still up."

"We hope to have made progress in a day or two," Connor said. "I'm sorry for inconveniencing the family. I'm sure they're dealing with the local police on this, and if I feel we've seen enough today, then I'll clear it for them to go in."

But he sounded dubious, and Cami knew that was unlikely to happen. Until this case was solved, who knew what evidence could prove important? Connor would want it preserved. But maybe, now, she would achieve a breakthrough.

They headed upstairs. This apartment was on the second floor, first one after the stairway. The crime scene tape was still stretched across the door, and Cami's stomach clenched as she saw it. That tape had associations for her. She'd seen – too many times – what lay beyond it.

But surprisingly, she found that she was no longer put off by this. Instead, she felt motivated by it. How weird was that? When, exactly, had her emotions changed from utter terror and denial, to this intense urge to hunt the killer down?

Even though she knew that the scene would be clean, sterile, a lonely place where no body lay and only the victim's belongings remained, Cami still felt that same strong determination to hunt this man down, as she and Connor walked inside. Surprised, she took a moment to acknowledge how much she had changed and what she had become

The apartment was tidy and it looked to be partly furnished, because what was inside matched up so well with the building. A big bed with an ornate brass frame, wingback chairs in the living room.

And there was what she’d been looking for, something that was ultra modern, but yet aligned well with the effortless luxury of this apartment.

A small control panel is located in the kitchen. The kitchen had been left as it was, all the way down to the dirty coffee cup still in the sink and the pot that had been knocked onto the floor. Cami couldn't help wondering, with a shiver, if the pot on the floor represented evidence of a struggle that must have played out. But there was no time to think about that. The panel was what she needed to focus on.

“Look at this,” she said. She stepped forward, examining it closely.

“It’s a smart home?” Connor asked.

“It’s a smart home, but that’s not all it is. It’s a smart home that’s offline. Non functional.”

“Just like the other one was?”

“Yes. And this apartment has the same type of control panel as we saw in Lisa Court’s house. There has to be a connection, Connor. This is no coincidence. It’s not that common a control panel, and I haven’t seen it in many places in Boston.”

There were a couple of smart home companies that she’d job shadowed during her university degree, and who’d let them look at the functionality of their setups and even allowed them to do some of the installations. So Cami had some hands-on experience with the more established ones.

“What would it have controlled?” he asked.

She shrugged. "There's a lot it could have done. This kitchen is set up for partial automation. The coffee machine, the toaster. The bathroom might be connected. It's likely that the home's overall functions, such as heating and aircon, are hooked in, and there will probably be security linked to it. The front door lock, the blinds, the outside gate to let visitors in. Maybe even a link to the cameras at the end of the corridor.”

“That’s a lot.”

“It is.”

But Cami thought she knew what she would find.

And as she took out her phone and took a look at what was available for her to connect to, she saw she was right. There was nothing available at all. No wifi. It was all switched off. That blank screen meant that nothing was available.

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