Page 17 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
“You can create your own password. Before you agree to the terms of use, understand you are giving Hastings Security permission to track your location and movements both inside and outside Hastings-secured facilities.”
Kimberly skimmed the plain English TOS and checked the proper box.
“Now I need you to choose a word you wouldn’t use in normal conversation. If you use the word near your phone, it will trigger an alarm and start recording audio until we resolve the threat.”
“Seriously? It’s like one of those devices you can ask all the questions.”
“Yes, only we won’t accidentally order a year’s supply of cat toys for you.”
Her mind was blank. “I can’t think of a word to use. I don’t want to use it accidentally.”
“I had a client who usedkoalaand another who usedpistachi pants tomorrow contributions project server 15,000os.”
Kimberly ran through words she could remember but wasn’t likely to use in conversation. Officer Penguin in her second book came to mind. “Penguin.”
“Write it here.” Mr. Alexander waited while she typed it in. “Now you need to say your word three times, following the screen directions.”
Conversational: “Penguins.”
Quickly, voice raised: “Penguins!”
Whisper: “Penguins.”
“Now you need to record the wordhelp. Most people naturally use that word.”
Kimberly recorded the wordhelpthree times.
“As long as you have the phone with you, it will unlock the doors for you. No more skylight entries.’’
“I have no intention of climbing on the roof again, at least for the next four months.”
“Good idea. Oh, and I put Mrs. Ogilvie’s number in your contacts. She will receive your calls now.”
“Thanks. Is there anything else?” Kimberly put the phone in her back pocket.
“No. I’m going to the caretaker’s house to grab the things I left there. I’ll be back in twenty.”
“Let me guess. Don’t leave the house or open the doors or blinds.”
Mr. Alexander grinned. “You’re a pro at this already.”
Kimberly resisted the urge to roll her eyes until he turned his back.
* * *
Alex dialed the office as soon as he got in his truck.
Alan answered. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“I hope I’m not keeping you from any Thursday-night plans.”
“Not in the least.” Alan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Good.” Alex ignored the undertone. “What’s the situation?”
“Other than the media conference, not much. The tip line is receiving a fair amount of traffic. No way of knowing whether any of it’s credible or what is being reported. The social media posts are all over the country.”
“Kimberly hopscotched through a couple dozen airports, changing clothing and airlines. What about FBI involvement?”
