You may log in only from your home or office. No other location. We monitor everyone who signs in. If we detect any other incoming IP addresses, including any law enforcement agencies, local or national, all communications will be severed and your daughter will be terminated.
He turned around to look at us. There were deep hollows under his eyes. “Belinda wouldn’t let me click on the link.” He sounded depleted and resigned.
“What’s CamFriendz-dot-com?” Belinda said.
“It’s a live video site,” Dorothy said. “Social networking. Mostly for teens.”
Marcus said, “What should I do?”
“Don’t touch the keyboard,” Belinda said.
“Wait a minute,” Dorothy said. She took out her laptop and hooked in the back of his computer. “Okay.”
“What are you doing?” Belinda said.
“A couple things,” she said. “Screen-capture software so we can record anything they send you. Also, packet-sniffing software so I can log network activity remotely.”
“Are you mad?” Belinda cried. “They say if anyone else tries to look at this, they’re going to cut off all communication! Are you trying to get her killed?”
“No,” Dorothy said, patiently. “All I’m doing is setting up in effect a clone of this computer. I’m not logging in. No one’s going to detect it.”
“Well, you can just look at Marshall’s computer,” Belinda said. “I will not have you compromise Alexa’s safety in any way.”
“They have no way to know what I’m doing,” Dorothy said. I could see her patience was beginning to run out. “Also, we need to make sure they’re not trying to infect this computer with malicious code.”
“What’s the point of that?” Marshall said.
“To take control of your computer,” Dorothy said. “May I?” Her fingers were poised over his keyboard. He nodded, wheeled his chair back to let her at it.
“Don’t touch that!” Belinda said, alarmed.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” I said to her, and I took her out into the hall. In a low voice, I continued, “I’m worried about your husband.”
“You are?”
“He’d be panicking by now if it weren’t for you. You’re his rock. You did the right thing by telling him to call me and by not letting him click on that link.”
She looked pleased.
“And I hate to impose on you further at a time like this,” I said, “but I need you to go into another room and make an evidentiary compilation for me.”
“An … evidentiary…?”
“Sorry, that’s the technical term for an exhaustive description of all potential evidence that might help lead to her whereabouts,” I said. I’d made it up on the spot, but it sounded plausible.
“What sort of evidence?”
“Everything. I mean, what was Alexa wearing when she left. The make and size of her shoes and each item of clothing, her purse, anything she might have been carrying in her purse. You’re far more observant than Marshall, and men never pay attention to that kind of thing anyway. I know it seems tedious, but it’s extremely important, and there’s no one else who can do it. And we need it right away. Within the next hour, if at all possible.”
“Y’all want me to use a computer or a typewriter?”
“Whatever’s fastest for you,” I said.
I went back in. Dorothy had positioned herself in front of Marshall’s computer, standing. She tapped, moved the mouse, and after a minute she said, “Okay, open the hyperlink.”
In a few seconds a new window had opened. It showed a cheesy-looking website with a banner across the top: CAMFRIENDZ—THE LIVE COMMUNITY!
Within it were lots of moving video windows. In some of them were second-tier celebs like Paris Hilton. In others, teenage girls wearing low-cut tank tops and a lot of eye makeup were making provocative poses, and doing suggestive things with their tongues. Some of them had pierced lips.
“What is this?” Marcus said. “Some kind of pornography site?”
“Teenage girls and guys sit in front of the camera on their computer and talk to each