Chapter 28 Undetected Footprints

Chapter 28 Undetected Footprints
Marcus POV

Jake's apartment smelled like energy drinks and the particular electronic heat of servers running too hot. I sat on his couch at two in the morning, watching him navigate through layers of encrypted networks on three monitors that cast his face in blue light.
"You're sure this is legal?" I asked for the third time.
"Nothing about this is legal." Jake didn't look away from his screens. "Which is why you're going to deny being here if I get caught."
I'd known Jake since college—back when he was hacking university systems for fun and I was trying to pass Statistics. Now he did cybersecurity consulting for Fortune 500 companies. Legitimate work that paid for the equipment he used for less legitimate activities.
Like tracking serial killers through the dark web.
"There." Jake pointed to the middle monitor. "That's David's digital signature. Same encryption protocol, same posting patterns. He's been active on this forum for six years."
The screen showed a message board that looked deceptively normal—clean layout, threaded discussions. But the topic headers made my stomach turn: "Subject Selection Methodology," "Documentation Best Practices," "Avoiding Digital Forensics."
A forum for predators. By predators.
"How many users?" My voice came out rough.
"Active? About two hundred. Total membership over the years? Could be thousands." Jake scrolled through the post history. "David goes by 'Observer73.' He's a moderator. High-level contributor. Other users treat him like an expert."
I leaned closer, reading David's posts. Clinical language describing surveillance techniques, relationship manipulation, victim selection. He wrote about murder the way I wrote about quarterly earnings—dispassionate analysis backed by data.
"Can you trace the other users?"
"Some. Most use VPNs and proxies. But people get sloppy." Jake pulled up a database. "I've been cross-referencing posting times with unsolved murders across the country. There are patterns."
He showed me a map of the United States. Red dots clustered in major cities—New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Houston. Each dot represented an unsolved murder of a young professional woman.
"These are just the ones matching David's victim profile," Jake said. "Women aged twenty-five to thirty-five. Professional careers. Living alone. No forced entry. Minimal physical evidence."
I counted the dots. Stopped at thirty. Kept counting.
"Seventy-three," Jake said quietly. "In the last six years. That's how many match the pattern and correlate with active periods on this forum."
Seventy-three women. I thought about Morgana, about how close she'd come to being number seventy-four.
"Can Bruno use this?"
"Not officially. I accessed this through methods that would get thrown out of court faster than you can say 'illegal search.' But it gives Bruno direction. Cities to look at. Patterns to investigate." Jake switched screens. "Here's David's posting history. Look at the dates."
I watched him highlight posts. "Pittsburgh, 2008 through 2011. Then a gap. Posts resume from Austin in 2012. Another gap. New York posts start in 2016."
"He moves cities when he gets spooked or finishes his hunting ground." Jake pulled up another file. "But here's what's interesting. David doesn't just post about his own victims. He offers advice to other users. Look at this thread from last year."
The post showed someone asking about victim selection in Seattle. David's response was detailed, methodical. Suggestions about targeting professional women who worked late. Recommendations for building trust through workplace proximity.
"He's teaching them," I said.
"He's evangelizing. Look at the responses—people calling him a mentor, asking for private consultations. David Kellerman isn't just a serial killer. He's created a network of them."
I stood, paced to the window. Jake's apartment overlooked Brooklyn, the city spread out in lights. Somewhere out there, Morgana was in protective custody. Somewhere out there, David was planning his next move. And somewhere, scattered across the country, other predators were using his methods to hunt.
"What about references to other victims? Ones we don't know about?"
Jake hesitated. "That's where it gets worse."
He pulled up a thread titled "Multi-City Research Projects." David's username appeared repeatedly, discussing "subjects" across different locations. The language was coded, but the meaning clear.
"He's talking about women he killed before New York," I said. "Before Pittsburgh and Austin."
"Dallas, maybe. Possibly Houston. The timeline suggests at least three more cities before Pittsburgh." Jake scrolled through posts. "But he's careful. No specific names, no concrete details. Just methodology and general timelines."
My phone buzzed. Text from Morgana: Are you safe? Bruno won't tell me anything.
I stared at the message. Safe. I was sitting in an apartment helping hack dark web forums while she was hidden from a serial killer who'd been hunting across the country for over a decade.
I typed back: I'm fine. Working on something that might help. Trust Bruno.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Then: I don't know who to trust anymore.
"Marcus?" Jake was watching me. "You okay?"
"She doesn't trust anyone." I set the phone down. "David destroyed that. Made her doubt everyone around her."
"Can you blame her? The guy she was dating turned out to be a serial killer. That kind of betrayal—" Jake stopped. "Sorry. I know you care about her."
Care about her. Understatement. I'd been halfway in love with Morgana since she joined our team two years ago. Watched her date terrible men while I convinced myself friendship was enough. Finally worked up courage to investigate David, only to discover I was right about him being wrong for her in ways I couldn't have imagined.
"Show me more," I said.
Jake pulled up another section of the forum. "David's been posting actively this week. Look."
The thread was titled "Project Completion Complications." David's posts described a "research subject" who'd become aware of surveillance. He discussed contingency planning, extraction protocols, backup locations.
"He's talking about Morgana," I said.
"Posted three days ago." Jake scrolled down. "But check the responses. Other users offering advice, sharing their own experiences with subjects who became problematic. It's like a support group for serial killers."
One response caught my eye: "Eliminate the complication. Research is secondary to operational security."
David's reply: "Subject represents six months of observation. Data collection is incomplete. Completion is priority."
"He's obsessed with her," Jake said. "Not in a romantic sense. In a clinical one. She's his masterwork. His most carefully documented victim. And she escaped."
I read through more posts. David discussing Morgana's work schedule, her habits, her psychological profile. Six months of documentation. Six months before their "chance" meeting at the coffee machine.
"He started planning this before they ever met," I said.
"He selected her. Then he engineered every interaction to seem organic." Jake pulled up a timeline. "Look at this—David posted about identifying a 'promising subject' at Meridian Financial eight months ago. That's before you even knew he existed."
Eight months. While Morgana had been focused on her career, David had been studying her like a lab specimen.
My phone buzzed again. Not Morgana this time. Bruno: Need everything you've found on Kellerman's digital activity. Can you send it?
I looked at Jake. "Bruno wants what we've got."
"Tell him it's complicated. We can't just email this stuff—it'll trace back to me." Jake was already typing. "But I can create a secure drop. Anonymous upload. He'll have everything in twenty minutes."
I texted Bruno back with Jake's instructions.
Jake switched screens again. "There's one more thing you need to see. Posted yesterday, around noon."
The thread loaded. David's username. Post timestamp: 11:47 AM yesterday.
Subject line: "Final research subject requires one more session. Recommendations for ensuring completion?"
I read the post. David describing his "research methodology," his need to complete documentation with his current subject. Asking for advice on securing a subject who'd become aware of the research project.
The responses came from usernames I didn't recognize, offering suggestions that made my skin crawl. Recommendations for isolated locations. Advice on preventing escape. Techniques for ensuring subjects remained compliant during "final documentation."
"He posted this yesterday," I said. "While Bruno was moving Morgana into protective custody. While the entire NYPD was hunting him."
"He's not scared. He's planning." Jake pointed to the timestamp. "And look at this—he's been active on the forum every day this week. Last post was six hours ago."
He pulled up the most recent post. David, responding to someone's advice about "completion protocols." His reply was brief: "Appreciate the recommendations. Research facility secured. Timeline proceeding as planned."
Research facility. Not an apartment or house. A facility.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"I don't know. But whatever David's planning, he has a location ready. Somewhere he feels safe. Somewhere set up specifically for—" Jake stopped. "For what he does to his victims."
My phone buzzed. Bruno again: Got the drop. This is good work. Stay available—might need more.
I showed Jake the message. "We're officially assisting a police investigation through illegal hacking. This is either the smartest or stupidest thing I've ever done."
"Smart. Definitely smart." Jake was scrolling through more posts. "Because look at this. Six hours ago, someone else posted asking if anyone in the Northeast had secure locations available for 'extended research projects.' David responded with coordinates."
"Coordinates?"
Jake pulled up a mapping program, entered the numbers from David's post. The screen zoomed in on Connecticut. Rural area. Heavy tree cover. Nothing but green on the satellite view.
"That's the middle of nowhere," I said.
"That's where David's taking Morgana. Or planning to. Or already has." Jake looked at me. "You need to tell Bruno. Now."
I was already dialing. Bruno answered immediately.
"Marcus?"
"David posted coordinates on a dark web forum six hours ago. Connecticut. Looks like property in the middle of nowhere." I read off the numbers. "Jake mapped it—there's nothing there except woods."
"Send me the exact location." Bruno's voice had gone sharp, focused. "And Marcus? Everything you found on that forum—can Jake package it so we can use it?"
"Not in court. But for investigation—"
"I don't care about court right now. I care about finding Morgana before David does." Background noise filtered through—car engine, highway sounds. "Send me everything. Coordinates, forum posts, timeline correlations. All of it."
"Already on the way."
Bruno hung up. Jake was typing frantically, compiling files.
"This is enough for Bruno to get a warrant, right?" I asked.
Jake didn't answer immediately. Then: "Marcus. Look at the forum."
He'd pulled up the main page. At the top, in bold red text, a new post from David. Posted three minutes ago.
Subject line: "Research Complete. Methodology Documentation Available for Serious Inquiries."
I read it twice. Three times.
"That can't mean—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
Jake pulled up the post. David's final message to his forum, clinical and precise: "Six-month observation study concluded successfully. Subject responses documented across all research parameters. Final session completed per protocol. Comprehensive methodology available for academic review. Appreciate the community's guidance throughout this project."
My phone hit the floor.
Jake was already dialing Bruno. "It's a bluff. Has to be. He's trying to spook us."
But the timestamp showed three minutes ago. And David's posts were always accurate. Always documented. Always clinical descriptions of murder.
I grabbed my phone, called Morgana. Straight to voicemail.
Called Bruno. No answer.
"Jake—"
"I'm trying." He was pulling up police scanners, emergency frequencies. "Nothing. No reports of—"
His computer chimed. New post on the forum. Not from David.
From someone tagged "Administrator." The post read: "Observer73 has been granted Lifetime Achievement status for contributions to research methodology. His final project demonstrates the culmination of field study excellence."
Jake and I stared at the screen.
"It's a trophy," Jake whispered. "They gave him a trophy for killing Morgana."Retry