I wanted to meet Lena and baby T at the reservoir for a swim, but I didn’t think that made sense. There was a good chance Burk would find us. And, if truth be told, the idea had triggered my open water anxiety. The mere thought bumped up my heartbeat and blood pressure. I didn’t need that hassle, so I changed the location to the pool. We’d take turns swimming and watching the baby. Even Little T got his water fix in the baby pool, which he loved.
I sat on the edge of the pool, dangling my feet in the water. The sun warmed my back and blotted out my worries.
“Cookie, you’re becoming a regular these days,” said the gray-hair octogenarian who paddled back and forth. “Come. Swim with me. We’ll share the lane.”
It was an invitation I couldn’t resist. Adults had been given the pool for the next hour. Then, the kids would be back for family time and there wouldn’t be room to swim laps. My silver-haired friend stayed on his side of the wide lane while I hugged the lane line and stayed out of his way. What a sweetheart he was. Always watching out for me, always encouraging me to stay longer, swim a few more laps.
I stopped at the other end and stood in waist-deep water, my head back, enjoying the sun sinking into every line and crease on my face.
“Won’t be long now,” my partner said as he swam up next to me.
“Won’t be long for what?”
“Till you go off and join that Masters swim group with your sister. I know it.”
“I don’t think so. This is fine for me. I’m not interested in competing.”
“Didn’t you swim in an open water race not so long ago?”
“How did you hear that?”
He shrugged. “Pool gossip.”
“Well, I did. But it was only a mile. And I was scared the whole time.”
“But you did it?”
“I did.”
“So, you’re going to go off and join that Masters swim group. That’s what I think.”
“Not in my future. Maybe you should join?” I skimmed my hands over the top of the water and splashed him.
“Now you stop that,” he grumbled as I pushed off and swam to the other end. Watching the arms and legs of swimmers underwater always amused me. So many different strokes, different kicks, but they all moved the swimmer down the pool. My thirty minutes flew by.
“Lena,” I yelled, waving to her as she sat by the edge of the children’s pool. She waved back. “You’re next.” I pointed to the locker room. “Going to change.”
Out of my wet swimsuit and in dry clothes, I strolled over to Lena who squinted into the sun as she looked up at me.
“He’s all yours,” she said as she grabbed her black cap and amber-tinted goggles. “Oh, and he’s getting tired. Good luck.” She took the shortest route toward a middle lane.
A little girl about eighteen months old managed to splash T and send him into a very vocal tailspin. I picked him up, wrapped him in a towel and set him in his stroller. We walked to a small picnic table in the shade. He fell asleep as soon as the stroller moved.
I pulled out my phone. Null was back. The malware scan on my phone didn’t work and his emails remained annoyingly private. Since I paid the bills, I didn’t need permission to see what he wrote. I signed the shadowy user out. Then I waited. Fifteen minutes later, the ghost in my phone returned.
Null knew when I signed him off and as abruptly as Null appeared, he disappeared. Then two messages popped up from my savings bank. I kept the small inheritance my mother left me in this bank. One alerted me that the user made a purchase from a cell phone and asked if I knew about it. The second thanked me for signing up for bill pay. I’d never done that. In fact, all I ever did in this account was deposit money. Null had stepped over the line. No one had the right to touch what little money I had.
I called the bank immediately and told them what was happening. They bumped me up to the head security honcho who instantly shut down the whole account. Now, a highly secure verbal password would be needed to access the account. Passwords and accounts. I’d changed half a dozen usernames and passwords on several important accounts just a few hours before. Using my computer. Null had to know when those changes happened, had to have seen them happening. It dawned on me that nothing I did on my computer was safe. My hacker knew all about my accounts and my private information. Someone was watching me and everything I did on both my computer and cell phone.
I dug into Timmy’s baby bag tucked into a basket on the back of the stroller and pulled out Lena’s laptop. I went to my cable account, typed in my latest new password, and held my breath. Not surprisingly, it didn’t work.
I tried to keep my panic at bay. But I almost lost it when the sign-in page materialized in Spanish. Null must have changed the language preference. Heat rose through my chest into my neck and face. My stomach began to cramp up. I scurried over to Lena’s lane, pushing Timmy, who remained blessedly asleep. When she came to the end of the lane, I stopped her.
“You have to get out. We need to leave right now. My computer, my cell phone, all my accounts have been compromised. I have to go see Uly.”
My gray-haired swimmer friend stopped when he heard my panic. “Cookie, until this is figured out, call or go to the websites of the major credit agencies and put a freeze on your accounts.”
“Can’t this wait?” my sister asked. “This is my water time.”
“Please.”
Lena sighed. “Let me swim a few more laps. By the time you contact the credit card people, I’ll be out.”
I made the calls and the panic subsided as each entity assured me they’d put a hold on any activity until they heard differently from me. I studied the computer, trying to see the corrupt monster inside. Nervously, I began to type anyway. My latest sign-in information stayed unchanged. I let out a huge breath.
I went to the general cable settings and browsed through the house account. When I clicked on the phone icon, I realized that all calls were being forwarded to a strange phone number. I tried calling it, wondering what I would say if someone picked up, but it went to a mailbox that didn’t take messages. I unclicked the forwarding icon and deleted the phone number. Maybe Earl would start getting his calls again.
I touched the envelope icon. My hacker had forwarded all my emails to a Gmail account that definitely wasn’t mine. I wrote the address down and unclicked the forwarding button. I sat back and glancing at the pool, not seeing it, trying to figure out what I should do. After a moment, I had it. I knew how to jam the jammer. Just needed to rely on my ineptitude with technology of any kind. All it took were three attempts of putting in phony passwords and the Gmail account slammed shut.
Score another point for me.