Beneath it lay a sleek black metal box, no larger than a standard paperback book. A tiny, nearly invisible camera lens extended outward through the mounting bracket, aimed with surgical precision directly at Helen’s second-floor window.
The box was wired directly into my solar electrical lines, drawing steady power. Inside, it also housed a sophisticated Wi-Fi bridge linked directly to the wireless router inside my house.
Through that single unauthorized connection, the device had silently siphoned data from every smart system I owned: my garage door opener, my home alarm system, my daughter Ava’s laptop, and even the indoor security camera facing our front hallway.
Simone carefully disconnected the box from the wiring harness. Even without external power, its small LED indicator remained brightly illuminated.
“It has an internal backup battery,” Simone noted.
“For how long?” I asked, my stomach knotting.
“Approximately seventy-two hours.”
Helen looked over at me from the police cruiser. “That’s why I kept damaging the panels,” she said softly. “Every time the power stopped, the battery countdown began ticking down. BrightCurrent always dispatched a technician to fix it before the timer reached zero.”
This time, however, Helen had outsmarted them. She had used industrial marking paint laced with a specialized powder visible only under ultraviolet light. Anyone handling or tampering with the device would unknowingly carry chemical traces on their hands and clothing. She had expected Travis to arrive, and she wanted the police present when he did.
June slowly reached out and removed the handcuffs from Helen’s wrists.