.
.
.
"Okay," said Stevens, leaning back from their makeshift whiteboard in Millner's office. "When did those unauthorized payments show up on Captain Decker's account?"
"Wednesday," said Ella. "And we both thought she got hacked by an anti-police-reform hater."
"This whole thing reminds me of worms, and not the kind that kid Noah likes," said Stevens.
Ella nodded and held up a piece of paper with a floppy disk with an X-eyed smiley face with a spiky mouth. "In the nineties, we installed antivirus software on our computers. Back then, the worms and viruses were there to shut you down or make things stop working. Early hackers worked mostly for bragging rights, but some of them were booby traps." She held up another piece of paper with two floppy disks, the second with a smiley face in funny glasses. "You try to make an illegal copy of the wrong software, boom!" said Ella. "According to my buddy who retired from cybercrime, it became an issue for ransomware and even terrorism."
"But now, it's not about making systems crash," said Stevens, holding up a picture of a floppy disk holding a finger over its mouth. "Now, it's about stealing data, either to sell to a third party or to scam you out of your money. And that means, if you make a virus, you not only don't want to make the victim's system crash; you don't want the user to know it's even there." She grinned.
"So you two think the camp's computer system got a virus?" asked Chloe. "They do have my credit card information, but I didn't pay for Rory's camp with WobbleWallet. And Millner said Trence didn't have access to the camp's computers." But Hayleigh had said half the campers knew how to jimmy the lock.
"No," said Ella. "What did Rory tell us about internet access here?"
"'If you give Trence twenty bucks, he'll let you use his phone,'" Chloe recited. Ella held up a hand and Stevens high-fived it.
"A scaredy cat like him would have been hypersensitive about being caught," said Stevens. "Sneaking into the camp databases? That could get him caught."
"Installing something on his personal phone? He could always say he just did it for fun," said Ella.
"So you think he wrote a program to catch any passwords that the campers entered while they were using it," said Chloe. "And some of them would access family accounts."
"Abby said Patricia was sneaking around after some of the other counselors," said Ella.
"What if those other counselors weren't having an affair?" asked Stevens. "What if they were stealing passwords?"
.
.
"This is unexpectedly great," Ella murmured as Stevens marched Trence toward the office. "We couldn't get through to her because we assumed from her blondy-blondness that she was a young you. Turns out she's a young me!"
Chloe gave a soft laugh. "I'm glad you're happy, Ella."
Ella mimed wiping a tear. "She was always ready. It was just that we had to teach her from the right angle."
"Yeah…" Chloe thought aloud, remembering Blanchard's music class. "Maybe we did."
Trence jittered past them into Millner's office, giving off a waft of what Chloe hoped was only twentysomething body odor.
"Okay," Stevens said emphatically. "How do I avoid leading questions and magical thinking and—"
"Stevens," said Chloe. She held up Trence's employment application, which had a copy of his drivers' license. "He's an adult. Treat him like one."
.
.
Trence's bugged-out eyes jumped from Chloe to Stevens and back like a frog ogling two storks and not knowing which way to jump.
"We called twenty sets of parents, and what would you know? Five of them said there had been suspicious activity on their wallet apps," said Stevens. "How much you want to bet all their kids borrowed your phone to access the Internet?"
"You've already lied to us once," said Chloe. "You're not studying dendrology at the University of Oregon—"
"Of course not! Why would I want to be a dentist?"
"—you're studying computer science. Python, Bash, two different kinds of artificial intelligence. Really makes me wonder why you'd pick a summer job where you don't even touch a keyboard."
Trence's voice came out like a squeak. "Minnorfff..."
"What's that?" snapped Stevens.
"I'm minoring in forestry," he gulped. "My parents will only pay for college if I take a STEM major. But I want to be a park ranger."
"And you don't know 'dendrology'?" asked Stevens.
"Huh?"
Stevens shook that off. "Conservation officers are law enforcement," she pointed out.
"That's right," said Chloe.
"Are you …offering to write me a recommendation?" Trence asked, eyebrows going up hopefully.
"I mean they won't take you if I arrest you for fraud!" snapped Stevens.
Trence scratched his head. "I thought all this was about Patricia getting dead."
"Well you see, Patricia figured out you were stealing," said Chloe.
"And then you killed her," said Stevens.
"I swear I didn't take those hot dogs!" Trence squeaked like a hedgehog playing the piccolo. "And even if Patricia thought I did, why would she—"
"Not the hot dogs, the passwords, you idiot!" said Stevens. "You're a computer expert. You designed a program that would record whatever the kids typed into your phone when they borrowed it. What system did you use? C ++? Python? Bash?"
"Y-you don't need one of those!" yipped Trence.
"What?"
"You wouldn't need to know any programming languages, no AI, nothing like that," said Trence. "Anyone could do it. All you need is a mobile keylogger." He looked at them. "You just put a program on the phone that records everything they put in—or everything someone else using the phone puts in. If you can install Wobble or Fitbit, you can install a keylogger. My parents put one on my phone when I was twelve, and my mom calls her iPhone a 'devil box.' This does not mean the thief was me."
Chloe thought. Had she seen a keylog program in some app store or pushed in some popup? One of the other parents at a Trixie-era PTA meeting had been blathering about monitoring their kid's phone in between hysterics about so-called critical race theory. Had they mentioned keystrokes?
"This is the first year since I've been here that Millner's told us to take the phones away." Trence gulped. "I thought it was too strict, okay? Last year, the kids were using their phones to take pictures of weird plants, weird bugs, download hiking maps. Half of them are on iNaturalist. So, when someone wanted a little relief from the Internet-free life, I handed them mine."
"For a twenty," deadpanned Stevens.
Trence shrugged. "I wasn't above an honest buck, no. It was kind of fun to be people's hookup. Like a prison movie but without the beatings and stuff."
Stevens got to her feet and leaned over the desk, "You're awfully stuttery for a man with nothing to hide."
"I'm st-stuttering because she's the girl from Hot Tub High School!" Trence blurted, pointing at Chloe. "You're like, my—um, y'know!" He turned almost apologetic. "I had a poster of you on my wall? You know, the one with the..." he mimed a vaguely suggestive gesture.
The banana split. Worst photo shoot in human history.
"You know, I was at that age when where suddenly girls aren't ugly, and then my cousin had us watch this old DVD? My parents are megaChristians. This close to being Mormons," he pinched the difference between his finger and thumb. "I never saw anything like that before and—well. Please tell me I don't have to say any more."
Chloe rubbed a hand over her eyes.
"We need to have a look at your phone," said Stevens.
Trence looked up, eyes steady for the first time. "Then you need a warrant," he pulled in a breath like a wet shoelace through a straw. "I think I've been more than helpful."
.
.
"This might not be a dead end," Chloe said once they were outside. "If the kids were paying Trence to use his phone, maybe they were bugging the other counselors for access too."
"No joy with Sherriff Adams," said Stevens. "I swear he rolled his eyes through the phone when I asked about a warrant. I think he thinks this is too complicated."
"He sounds like he thinks lace-up shoes are too complicated," muttered Ella.
"There is a pretty big temptation to close a case for the obvious reason and then move on," said Chloe. She couldn't help but think of Delilah. If she had written it up as a drug death, no one would have blamed her. That was the problem.
Stevens narrowed her eyes. "Trence just told us that the kids all had their phones last year."
"So did Abbatemarco. Why?"
Stevens' finger poked at the air like a fly in a spiderweb. "Whose idea was it to take them away?"
"Didn't the art teacher say it was Patricia?" asked Ella.
"No," Chloe shook her head. "She said 'one of the counselors.' She said Patricia was interested in the phones but didn't actually say it was her."
"Maybe it was someone else," said Stevens.
.
.
They found Millner in the kitchen pantry, doing inventory with Blanchard.
He turned around politely. "Was Trence able to help?"
"Why did you start collecting the campers' phones?" Stevens asked. "It seems last year they were using apps like—" she checked her notes. "AllTrails, iNaturalist, and AnimeButtsForever."
"I suspect that last one might not be nature related," said Blanchard.
"One of the counselors suggested going tech-free," said Millner. "I like to be a supportive employer. She said her child psychology course covered a study on how off-screen time would make up for anything the campers didn't get from their nature apps."
Stevens flipped through her notebook. "I didn't hear anything about Patricia studying psychology or child care," she muttered.
"It wasn't Patricia who suggested it," said Millner. "It was Erinne."
Stevens held up her finger again. "Erinne…"
Chloe quickly steered Stevens outside. "Please excuse us," she said to Millner.
Stevens sat down heavily on the picnic table. Chloe stood a few steps away and watched.
"So Trence told us …but then Hayleigh said…" Stevens pulled out her notebook and started ripping through pages like an outboard motor.
The kitchen door opened and Blanchard came out. For once, Stevens didn't warn Chloe to stay away from him. "I couldn't help but hear that—" Chloe gestured sharply for him to be quiet.
He tilted his head in confusion. She nodded hers at Stevens. Stevens was muttering "But if … and then she…" Blanchard stared and cocked an eyebrow.
Chloe tried to motion something that could mean, I figured it out. You figured it out. Now I need to see if SHE can figure it out.
Blanchard waved back what was either, Pardon me, I don't understand why we're thrashing our arms around or I think the Fosse version of Starlight Express was underrated.
"Trence told us that you don't need to be a computer expert to steal passwords…" Stevens was saying. "But who the hell memorizes their passwords any more? It's easier to just save them to your phone… But the phones were all in the same place—Millner's office—and…" her head came up. "And even Hayleigh knew you can get the door open if you hit it in the right place, so the counselors probably all knew too!" she looked at Chloe. "Is Erinne our suspect?"
Chloe opened her mouth.
"Wait! It's my investigation. Erinne's our suspect," Stevens said with more foundation. She breathed out, "But just because Erinne had physical access to the phones doesn't mean she could get information off them."
"Ah," Blanchard spoke up. "If the phone screens weren't locked when she collected them, she could have just kept them open until she was alone. It's called a swipe and scan," said Blanchard. Stevens narrowed her eyes at him. "Or so I've heard."
Stevens narrowed her eyes and Chloe could picture her scribbling on the notepad in her head: "John Blanchard: Sketchy music teacher. Roadie con artist? Country music meth cook?"
"But just because taking the phones away from the campers was her idea doesn't mean she had to have been the one stealing," was all she said. "Another counselor or adult could have heard about it and seen an opportunity."
"And even if she was the one stealing, that doesn't mean she had to have killed Patricia. It just gives her motive, and then only if Patricia knew about it."
"Patricia was militant and looking for rule-breaking," said Stevens. "She knew about it." Her eyes narrowed. "Something feels funny about this," she said. "I can't picture Erinne shoving Patricia off the bridge, can you?"
"People are different when they get angry," said Ella. "And let's remember that none of us know what Patricia was like when she was alive."
"Like iron," Blanchard volunteered. "Like Puma Cabin was her kingdom. You're right that Erinne's not one to get angry, but between you and me, I think she was afraid of Patricia. You tell me she got scared and knocked her over the side?" he tipped his head. "Could be."
"How do we catch her out?" asked Stevens.
Chloe breathed out. "The best thing would be to find Hayleigh's camera." In the corner of her eye, she saw Blanchard's left arm twitch. "But the second best would be to make her think we did."
"We could—" Blanchard looked at Stevens. "I mean you mean to lay some kind of trap for her, then? Convince her you've found the camera, tempt her to steal it, give herself away?"
Stevens looked from Chloe to Blanchard and back. She still didn't like the idea of letting him help. But she could tell Chloe trusted him.
"Because if you want a time when the counselors are off-guard and distracted," Blanchard continued, "there really isn't a better one than Campfire."
.
.
.
It's not really called a "swipe and scan" but it is a real thing. I'd like to thank the crew at Discord for help with, among other things, character names.