Columbine Basement Tapes Novels & Stories

I picked up the device and quickly unlocked the screen, reading the short, highly urgent text message that Cael had just transmitted through our secure, untraceable server. Cael: I completely struck out on the digital administrative portals regarding Amberly Lynne, but I found another highly restricted section of the college administration where the deeper, significantly older physical student files are securely kept. The basement of the library houses twenty years of un-digitized transfer records. I need exactly forty-eight hours to bypass the analog security locks and get inside.* Jordan: Do whatever you have to do, Cael. Just get inside that basement and find her before my father complete

Bianca stood in the doorway, holding a small, silver USB drive. “When we were in the basement,” Bianca said, “I saw a tiny camera inside the box Maya opened. My grandfather was careful—he recorded everything in that room.” She crossed the room and pressed the drive into Maya’s hand. “That camera caught Maya reading the paper. It recorded every word on the page. It even got Miller’s confession. And it showed the woman in the basement was wearing a mask.” Maya stared at Bianca. For the first time, she didn’t see an enemy. She saw a friend.

They thought she was gone for good, just a ghost in their memories. They had no idea. Her fingers flew over the keys, violet eyes darting from one screen to the next. Then she found it. A single file that stopped her breath and sent anger burning through her veins. She hesitated, barely a second. Then she clicked. A sex tape. Her own bedroom—she recognized her white and gold vanity dresser, the messy pile of books on her gold and white nightstand. The camera must’ve been hidden there, aimed right at the bed. Cassian came into view first: broad-shouldered, crisp shirt already being undone, muscles flexing. He looked cocky, eyes full of heat as he turned to Brielle. Her ex-best friend. Long da

"You're Julian. The St. Claire boy or rather, the Reeves boy pretending to be St. Claire." "Just Julian," he said, waving ."I don't know what else to be anymore." "I started recording the night Cameron Morrison died. I was supposed to get him off that roof and save him. Your mother sent me." He looked at my mother who stood in the doorway. "I got there too late and saw what happened." He said. "What things?" I asked. "I saw everything the Foundation really do." He pulled a USB drive from his pocket and set it on the table. "This is a copy of everything on the original drive. Not just Cameron's death, everything after."

If Reid was the tracker, Felix was the ghost. These were the men who, a year ago, had combed every piece of camera footage between Knox’s neighborhood and the coffee shop Vivienne vanished from. They were the ones who embedded traceable metadata into the infamous sex tape’s digital footprint, knowing that if Wes ever sent it out, they’d be able to trace it. They’d seen her body in more ways than Knox had ever wanted, all in the service of watching over her. And now she was gone. "Carter’s security teams are freaking out on the radios," Reid said, not looking up from his laptop, his voice unnervingly calm.

"Yesterday, Richard came to me and asked for a favor. He wanted to borrow my private basement lab for some tests. He's a good friend of mine, so I agreed. I didn't know what they were testing, and I certainly didn't know it would end in arson! When the alarms went off, the entire lower level was already engulfed. And now they're just gone!" I stared at him, my eyes narrowing into slits. He didn't seem to be lying. Before I could question him further, Evan approached us, holding a ruggedized tablet with a somber look on his face. "Sir," he called out softly. "We managed to pull a partial feed from an off-site cloud server connected to the rear alley cameras. It's heavily corrupted from the fi

“Tracks are less than twenty-four hours old.” They moved inside carefully. The upper floors had partially collapsed years ago, but a hidden stairwell led down into a surprisingly intact basement level. The air was cool and damp. Flashlights cut through the darkness, revealing rows of metal filing cabinets and shelves still holding boxes of records. Maya led the way with Elias right beside her. Cass and Marcus followed, while Felix coordinated with the security team above. The basement had clearly been maintained in secret — dust patterns showed recent movement, and several cabinets stood slightly ajar.

"Can this help us find Enzo and your stepmother?" "Maybe," I replied, moving toward the table. "Plants see things we don't. They remember." Carson cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with talk of plant memory. "Speaking of remembering things," he said, tapping his laptop, "I've managed to recover about seventeen minutes of footage from the facility's security system." The room fell silent as he connected his computer to the large screen mounted on the wall. Grainy black and white footage flickered to life, showing the main floor of the mining facility where we'd found the bloodstains.

I whispered. “What’s that?” Theodore asked, his gaze narrowing at the device in my hand. “Oh, this?” I raised the phone and smiled. “Just a little truth capsule.” I remembered how I had sent my men to dig out the security footage—specifically from the connection room and balcony. Lola had been cunning enough to destroy some evidence, but not clever enough to think of everything. She’d managed to delete footage from the central hallway... but she didn’t know about the hidden server that backed up the side views.

“You’re looking for security footage from last week’s accident, aren’t you?” Ava stepped forward. “You have it?” He hesitated. “Someone came by the day after the crash and took most of the tapes. But…” He reached under the counter and pulled out a USB. “I always keep a backup.” I exchanged a glance with Caleb before sliding a wad of cash across the counter. The old man nodded. “Be careful with this. If someone wanted those tapes erased, they won’t be happy you have this.” - Back at the hotel, we connected the USB to Caleb’s laptop. The footage played in silence, showing the street where the accident happened.