The plan was simple, Ginny told herself over and over again.
Simple enough in theory, even if it felt anything but.
They would set up cheap cameras around campus, positioning most of them near the church—the place where everything seemed to converge, where shadows lingered just a little too long, and whispers seemed louder in the quiet of night. The cameras weren't high-quality; they couldn't afford that. But they were enough to capture movement, enough to notice patterns, enough to make people stop and think twice about what they were doing when they thought no one was looking.
