She’s 911 call about a Black man tinkering with his Wi-Fi sparks a jaw-dropping revelation that leaves everyone stunned…

Always on his computer. Barely socialized. Now, suddenly, things were making a whole lot of sense.

Melanie’s face went pale. No. No.

That doesn’t make any sense. Brandon isn’t— He wouldn’t— Carter stepped in. We need to talk to him.

Now. Melanie hesitated. She didn’t want to believe it.

But deep down, something in her gut told her it was true. I’ll take you to him, she murmured. Darius stood.

I’m coming too. Navarro gave him a sharp look. No.

You stay here. Let us handle this. Darius clenched his jaw.

He hated sitting back when he was the one who uncovered everything. But he also knew pushing back wouldn’t help. Fine, he muttered.

But you’d better get the truth out of him. But the truth? It was even worse than they imagined. Melanie’s hands shook as she led Navarro and Carter down the street to her house.

Every step felt heavier than the last. Brandon? The kid she had taken in? The one she helped through school? It couldn’t be him. And yet, deep down, a voice in her head whispered, What if it is? She opened the front door, calling out, Brandon, can you come downstairs for a minute? No answer.

Navarro exchanged a look with Carter before stepping inside. We’re going up. Melanie didn’t argue.

She just wrapped her arms around herself, her breath unsteady. They climbed the stairs, reaching Brandon’s bedroom door. It was shut.

No sounds inside. Navarro knocked hard. Brandon, this is the police.

We need to talk. Still nothing. Then, the sound of movement.

A chair scraping, footsteps. Carter’s hand hovered over her gun. Open the door.

Now. Slowly, the knob turned. The door creaked open, revealing Brandon Foster.

He looked startled, nervous. Eyes darting between Navarro, Carter, and his aunt. His hands fidgeted at his sides.

What’s going on? he asked, voice tight. Navarro studied him. We have reason to believe you’ve been accessing private security cameras in the neighborhood…