Under Cover of Darkness

On a moonless night, a figure in dark clothing walked down a quiet street and disappeared as it blended into a thick hedge along one of the houses. This was the home of Dr. Isabel Helms, Churchville University provost, a rental cottage in an old neighborhood of large lots that were parceled out almost a century ago from Mennonite farms. It was just a mile from the Churchville University campus, a short drive or brisk walk for Isabel, depending on the weather and her mood.

The surrounding homes were also simple. Generations of Mennonite kin were well-settled in that area. They were great neighbors, always friendly and ready to help with homeowner chores. They’d also accept help gladly and graciously with their own larger tasks. It was the community way. Aside from that, they were unseen, early to bed and early to rise, and deeply private in their devotions. It fit Isabel’s private nature, and she loved it there.

Isabel’s house was empty that weekend, not an unusual state. The shadowy visitor entered the back kitchen door undetected. There were no Ring doorbells or security cameras to record an intruder’s appearance, or disappearance. The back door was unlocked, not surprising for life in the small town.

Inside, the trespasser walked silently through the rooms. The kitchen led to the great room, divided by furniture into a living room, a library nook, and an office space. Wary of even using a flashlight, the unfamiliar house was a trip-and-fall hazard everywhere. “Damn it. almost took me down there” the trespasser spoke to the unseen ottoman.

Adjusting to the darkness, off the great room, two open doors revealed an antique bath, complete with a clawfoot tub, and a bedroom of reasonable size, tastefully decorated in a more modern theme of comfort. “Cozy.”

The stranger sifted through the closet and drawers of the bedroom, finding only the usual and expected professional wear and underthings. There was a vibrator in the nightstand, but that was hardly an alarming discovery in the personal items of a single lady. The shadow then investigated the desktop computer and an iPad that was on a charger in the reading space of the great room. The desktop had a Microsoft platform with a docking station for her business laptop, connected to the university system as a virtual, off-campus university workspace. After a quick look, it was determined to be all business. No need to dwell on that piece of equipment, especially since it gave off a glow that might be noticed if someone passed by the house.

The iPad was her personal device. Sitting on the floor in a dark corner, the iPad surrendered her financial files and passwords. Isabel’s finances were quite healthy in savings and investment.

“Smart girl,” said the intruder to the empty room. “If you were as savvy in your computer skills as you are in your investments, someone would have had to work much harder to know that.”

The easiest access was her recent search history. She was not a dark web cruiser. The figure looked through the browsing history: “Boring, boring, boring. . . Oh wait, what do we have here?” Isabel’s visits to conventional websites were expected. This one was not. Xnorml.com was an unsecured, relatively porous site where users of various sexual lifestyle interests could meet.

“And a dirty, dirty girl,” muttered the hacker after a quick review.

A knowledgeable user would have known to enlist a VPN and take additional personal security steps before engaging there. Isabel had simply found the site through her iPad search. She was so professional and buttoned up in her public life but, unfortunately, not well-schooled in internet security.

Isabel’s activity on Xnorml left her IP address exposed, inviting any interested source of ill will to stalk her further online, eventually piecing together her real identity and residence. Her messaging box indicated an affinity for anonymous encounters of a nature that might be less than respectful for a university provost. “Very pleased to meet you in cyberspace, Ms. Unicorn, and your many pen pals ‘bondingwithbondgae’, ‘submittedcommitted’. and the like.”

With this hands-on access to her actual device, a vessel of evil now had all the information needed to search further from their own computer, even cruising with Isabel’s identity if chosen. The trespasser hadn’t known what to look for when entering Isabel’s cottage, but plenty was now found. There was no need to bother looking in the detached garage. “Thanks for your memories, we’ll be talking soon,” said Isabel’s stalker upon exiting. Everything inside and out was left as found, with no sign that a visitor had visited.

Less than twenty minutes from passing the hedgerow, the dark-clad figure was gone.