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But this case was unlike anything they'd encountered before. And while sex was a factor, it wasn't his only motivation. At the FBI offices, the agents comforted Amy, who shook uncontrollably, unable to collect herself.

She said she felt "terrorized." After the incident, she didn't leave her room for a week.

The one photo they turned up showed a 30-year-old dark-skinned Latino with a long narrow nose and bushy black eyebrows.

The feds set up surveillance outside the blue ranch house on a quiet side street.

For the next couple of weeks, the girls remained watchful for malware, insidious software capable of wreaking all sorts of havoc.

"I know you're talking to each other right now! James's throat constricted; how did the stalker know what he was saying? Since its founding in 2002, the program's cyber squads have worked out of a cluttered, bustling office on Wilshire Boulevard, a maze of cubicles that looks more like the office of a video-game company than of a federal agency.

Bookshelves spill with tomes on hacking and programming.

And when she finally did go back to class, she couldn't concentrate.

Amy knew it was irrational, but she couldn't help scanning the crowd, looking for her stalker. He, too, had holed up alone, away from family and friends.