“Wish you had time to come by more.”
“I know. Night work means day sleep. And Dad.”
“But it’s okay for you to be away from your job now?”
“I got to take a few hours off tonight for a family emergency.”
The device continued to balk until finally the number count on the inbox began to tick upwards. But Carmen was interested in the messages sent. And there the messages were, with Jenna and her as the sole recipients.
It didn’t tell her much except someone had accessed the account. A mirrored device. Had to be. She went into the settings and changed the PINs and password. A two-factor authentication prompt appeared a moment later on her mother’s phone from the email provider. She confirmed the password change.
That took care of the emails. But what about the text messages? She wanted to bite her thumbnail but knew how much she hated it when her sister persisted in the childish habit.
How had the hackers sent text messages from her mom’s phone?
Texts via the internet were simple enough. It meant she would have to change the password on the mobile account as well. Ten minutes later, after slogging through more long wait times, it was finished.
Jenna nibbled on an index fingernail. “That’s it?”
“I wish. I think we’re just getting started. We need to do this with her bank, her credit cards, her brokerage, and anyplace else where she ever did business online.”
Her sister’s eyes were downcast. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I should have done this two years ago.”
Carmen waved off the comment. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve had your hands full. I should have stepped up and done more. I love you.”
“You’ve always been so good to us. Even going to church with Zach and Landon when I wasn’t up for it.”
“Those couple of times? You know I’d do anything for you and the boys. Speaking of which, did you say anything to Peter about me?”
Jenna wrinkled her nose. “Peter? No, why?”
“It’s nothing. But he stopped by work to ask questions. Then he started aggressively asking me out. Weird.”
“He always was. I can call him if you want. I didn’t say anything, didn’t hint anything…I’m not even sure the last time we talked. At church he sits with his dad and barely says a word to me when he comes over to visit with the boys. I’m okay with that.”
Carmen swiped through the pages of apps on her mom’s phone and knew there was more to be done. But she stifled a yawn.
Her sister looked at her with unmasked concern. “You look exhausted. Take the phone and tablet home with you if you want.”
“Nah. I think it’s crisis averted. At least no one will be texting or emailing pretending to be Mom. The accounts shouldn’t even be up. We need to stop autopay on everything. Her Visa’s still drafting off the brokerage account. We can tackle it this weekend, okay?”
“We never talk much about her. We didn’t even have a funeral. There’s just all…this.” Jenna gestured to the walls of boxes. “But you never give up. On me or her.”
The air in the townhouse was suddenly too hot. “We’ll work more on this soon. Remember when Mom was going to leave, during that interview with that Sacramento TV weatherman? She said when she came back she’d be the queen of Mars.”
“I remember.”
They hugged their goodbye and Carmen was out the door. But Jenna’s last words lingered. Had her sister forgotten that Carmen hadn’t even said goodbye when their mother departed the last time for Texas and had flaked on their final visit over teleconference with Mom before launch day?
She considered returning to the water treatment plant. Leaving had been rash. If Peter or the deputy talked to her manager, it would be their word versus hers and her workmate Nora’s. She had her own bills to pay.
But there was something about the messages from whoever was pretending to be their mother that continued to bother her. She knew she should at least go home and get some rest. But instead she drove around the corner to where she could still access the meshnet and logged in.
Chapter Four
A little past three in the morning the network went to sleep. Carmen had been nodding off in the driver’s seat of her subcompact, the laptop propped open on the gear shift knob, the car windows damp with condensation. She searched again for the network but the signal was gone.
Time to go home, check on Dad’s nighttime nurse, and climb into bed. The previous day’s lingering problems could be untangled once she got up at noon. She might still salvage her job. Seeing Jenna had felt good.
But the fake message from her mother continued to haunt her.
Why “help me”?
This went beyond someone trying to steal a dead astronaut’s identity. The ruse reeked of malice.
Carmen could take it, but she worried about Jenna. Her sister remained fragile after her husband abandoned her not six months after the disaster. Left her and ran off with one of Jenna’s Bible fellowship youth counselors, no less. Carmen had tirelessly continued trying to uncover the truth of their mother’s fate, but she had managed to support Jenna and the boys by being there daily while also juggling her own work and their dad’s care.
The last thing Jenna needed was to have her sister’s delicately balanced world knocked off track by some prank.
Following the Big Wipe they had endured a few months of reporters looking for a story. As if there wasn’t enough anguish in the world. Jenna had consented to several interviews about their loss; Carmen had never returned a single phone call or message to any reporter. But the news had been full of griefbait stories back then, and eventually
