Our convoy moved toward Eric’s office in downtown Columbus.
Officers secured the exits while I entered the glass-fronted building.
Eric sat at his desk with real estate transfer forms open across two monitors.
He froze when he saw my badge and the officers behind me.
“Secure every computer, server, phone, and file,” I ordered.
Vanessa stepped out of a private office.
She watched agents begin packing devices into evidence boxes.
Then she smiled.
“You won’t find proof that I touched that old man,” she said. “The cameras in the house have been broken all week.”
“I am not interested in the camera recorder,” I replied.
Her smile weakened.
“I am interested in the router logs.”
The color left her face.
Modern home networks preserve activity far beyond what people see on a physical hard drive. Devices connect, send packets, upload files, and leave timestamps.
The team sealed laptops and phones inside signal-blocking evidence bags.
The house listing vanished from the real estate portal as soon as we took control of the office network.
Eric began crying in his chair.
The transaction was dead.
But I still needed proof of how Vanessa had created the assault accusation.
Back at the forensics lab, Maya extracted network records from the home router.
Hours passed.
Then she found an unfamiliar device.
“There is a hidden wireless camera connected to the network,” she said. “It appears to be disguised as a picture frame in the living room.”
