Chapter 20: The Hacker in the Code
Jake arrived early again, feeling the weight of responsibility settle like familiar armor. He turned on his computer, pulled up the previously submitted case report, and added new notes from the latest school threat. Surveillance logs were tagged, threat emails archived, witness statements summarized. He was meticulous.
Amy walked over, balancing a clipboard full of printouts. "Morning, Peralta. I organized all seven visitor logs by time, name, and whichever school they came from."
Jake looked up, touched by her efficiency. "Amy, you're the quiet hero behind all this."
She shrugged, scanning his worksheets. "We've got five matching IP addresses so far. All coming from the same range—someone using public wifi."
Boyle popped up holding a plate of protein bars. "I brought extra. This case needs sustenance!" He dropped three bars on Jake's desk. "Human nutrition."
Jake smiled faintly. "Thanks, Boyle. I'll take one."
Rosa passed by without breaking stride. "I also got digital interview transcripts from the custodial staff. They all mention someone using an old LAN card. Like someone who knows their way around retro hardware."
Jake perked up. "Exactly. Someone old school—tech-savvy, but maybe amateur."
Terry strode over with concern. "Team debrief in the conference room. Now."
Everyone gathered: Jake, Amy, Rosa, Boyle, and Terry.
Terry stood at the whiteboard, labeled "SCHOOL THREAT INVESTIGATION", with bullet points about school locations, threat dates, and new digital footprints.
Terry began, "These bomb-threat emails came from public Wi-Fi spots near schools during pre-opening hours. The IP addresses are close, but generic—they don't tie to a home. Someone's being smart."
Amy chimed in. "We've cross-referenced all user logs from nearby cafes and municipal networks. Six user accounts match the timeframe. One had a visit to an internet café that closed down about two years ago."
Rosa crossed her arms. "The CCTV footage from that location shows a young man in a gray hoodie, using a desktop. High zoom on the screen shows a distinctive wallpaper—an old video game logo."
Boyle leaned forward. "Video game logo! That must be meaningful to him. Think there's a gamer tag attached?"
Jake nodded, pulling up an image. "I recognize it—it's from a retro online gaming site that went defunct last year. If this guy uses that wallpaper, he's got old-school habits. Socially awkward, maybe untraceable unless we pull usernames from forums."
Terry wrote FAST on the board. "Negative. Name is anonymous. We can still check forum archives for users with that wallpaper reference. Check gaming history, user interactions."
Jake added a new section under "HYPOTHETICAL": Community outreach attempts? Borderline vigilantism?
Amy raised an eyebrow. "Jake, do you think it's someone trying to make a point? Or just trolling the system?"
Jake considered. "We don't know intent yet, but methodical testing suggests he may plan something bigger. Or someone obsessed with seeing systems fail."
Rosa voiced agreement. "If it's kids' safety at stake, we need to intervene quickly."
Terry nodded. "All right. Jake, lead the forensic digital angle. Rosa, I need background checks on anyone associated with that site. Amy, I want spreadsheets organized by user IP and threat dates. Boyle… you continue morale-snack maintenance."
Boyle saluted. "Roger that."
The team scattered. Jake returned to his desk where Amy had pinned color-coded charts showing IP clusters and threat times. Rosa had chilling notes from staff reporting suspicious late-night delivery of laptops near offices.
Jake called out. "Amy, I need you to pull any mentions of that wallpaper logo in forum image threads. RAW files only."
Amy typed into her folder system. "On it. This will take time, but I've queued it."
Boyle showed up with a smoothie and a grin. "Do you want the omega‑3 bar? Or almond protein? I did taste testing this morning for multi-vitamins we could stock in the squad room."
Jake laughed. "Just keep the snacks coming, Boyle."
Gina waltzed past in sunglasses, holding a latte. "You guys are cleaning old internet forums? I thought this precinct had a social media ban for a reason." She paused at Jake's screen. "Oh wow, getting detective‑ninja technical now? Dad energy on maximum."
Jake sighed. "Don't encourage me."
Jake's desk was covered with open laptops and printed logs. Amy moved in with breakthrough news.
"Found it! A user posting with that retro wallpaper go by the name 'PixelProwler.' They deleted their account a year ago, but I recovered a cached archive. They posted in a town forum complaining about school tech, security fog, and how no one could stop them."
Jake's eyes widened. "That site timeline lines up with threats starting. If we find login timestamps…"
Rosa tapped her tablet. "I pulled background on local teens in the area who used to work at the old café. There's one—Marcus Stone, age 19, dropped out, technically self‑taught coder. His family moved away in 2017."
Jake smiled. "That's our guy."
Terry walked by and paused. "You got something?"
Jake met his gaze. "We might. Keep this locked until we have confirmation."
Jake and Rosa slipped down the city street to find the old café—Boarded windows, faded sign, but still faint glow of fluorescent lights behind. They scouted quietly, finding scavenged PCs inside. On the desk, a lone file folder with Marcus Stone's name scrawled in marker next to a photo of a moving truck.
Rosa whispered, "He been back here?"
Jake nodded. "Seems like it."
They grabbed evidence gloves and snapped photos of logs left on the PCs—timestamps with pixel wallpaper wallpaper files. They bagged it all.
Jake returned to the precinct and hurried to Holt's office. He knocked once and entered.
Holt looked up, expression neutral.
"This," Jake said, placing a folder on the desk, "is my preliminary case. Suspect identified: Marcus Stone. Background matches, digital profile fits, threat timelines align."
Holt flicked through the pages. "Well-organized. Thorough."
Jake added, "I'd like to move forward with surveillance and possibly an arrest warrant. And I'll need full digital forensics team support."
Holt nodded. "Proceed. You have the precinct's resources. Just keep a lid on media exposure."
Jake gave a crisp nod. "Absolutely."
Jake returned to his desk, pulling out the chair with satisfying firmness. Amy brought over tea, looking proud.
"This is going to settle fast, isn't it?" she asked softly.
Jake looked at her. "With the pattern pinched in the café logs and the suspect ID—yeah. We can close this clean."
Rosa leaned on his cubicle. "Nice work. Hands-off, no jokes, just results."
Boyle mov ed in with a fresh protein bar in each hand. "Victory snack!" he declared.
Jake smiled. "Thanks, Boyle."
Gina appeared nearby, stylized with her phone camera. "Keep it up, Detective. City's safe while you're in dad mode." She winked and walked off.
Jake sank into his seat, thinking about how much things had changed. Once he'd joked about Netflix binges and paper airplanes stealing crime scenes. Now he was managing digital profiles, surveillance ops, real risk, real stakes.
He tapped out a short text to Amy: Ready for next steps.
She replied instantly: Spreadsheet ready. We're in.
And just like that—Jake Peralta, professional, meaningful, grounded—was leading another case connection across precinct lines.