The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(67)

Okay, "revelation" is a very strong word. Let's just call it an idea. An idea that for the first time since I saw my own face on that computer screen gave me a tiny ounce of hope.

I returned to my office and flipped open my laptop again. On the screen was the same useless page of information that I had been staring at for a full hour.

This Web site belongs to... "None of your damn business" is what it should have said. Because that's practically what it implied.

But now, as I looked at it again, with my new mini-revelation fresh in my mind, it suddenly didn't seem so useless anymore. I scrolled down to the bottom of the who-is page that John had directed me to and found a line item that read "Name Server," followed by a name: "NS2.Fiztech.net." Now, I had certainly never been a computer genius, and ever since the invention of the Internet I've felt as if the people around me had suddenly been upgraded with a foreign language memory chip that I had somehow failed to receive in the mail.

But fortunately for me now, a little over three months ago, I had received an assignment that forced me to sit down and learn about some of this stuff: a chief technology officer from Silicone Valley who had married the first woman he fell in love with because he had been convinced she was the only woman who would marry him. And at the time, because he was a lowly, fairly unattractive network administrator for an office supplies distribution company, she probably was. But then time passed, he got slightly better looking, and more important, his bank account and business card title got slightly more impressive, and suddenly, girls he had never even dreamed of talking to, let alone marrying, were very interested in learning all about the exciting field of information technology. Girls like Ashlyn: a motivated, techno-savvy systems analyst trying to survive a harsh, male-dominated field.

Who knew that my knowledge of information technology would ever come in handy again?

In fact, thanks to my previous research, I had more than just an inkling about what a name server was. And, as opposed to what I might have thought four months ago, it wasn't asking me to assign a name to the person who brings me chicken wings at Applebee's. It was the name of the company where the Web site was hosted.

In other words, it was the company that had sold cyberspace to whomever was terrorizing me on the Internet. A digital self-storage rental house, if you will.

I quickly typed the company name into a new Google search. The results were definitely in my favor. It was exactly what I was hoping for. The small Web hosting company of Fiztech.net was owned by one lonely, solitary person.

And thankfully, that person was a man.

A man who would soon be getting a very unexpected visit.



BUT BEFORE I could pay my unexpected visit to Jason Trotting of Fiztech.net, I had to take care of my unexpected visit to the Range Rover dealership for the recall on some malfunctioning part in my car.

On Wednesday morning, I pulled into the service line at the far end of the dealership and stepped out onto the pavement. A man dressed in a black polo shirt tucked into khaki slacks approached me with a clipboard.

"Good morning," he said. "Do you have an appointment?'

"Yes," I said, leaning into the car and pulling out my purse. "Eleven A.M. Jennifer Hunter."

He scanned his clipboard. "I'm sorry, I don't have you down on my list. Are you sure it was today?"

I frowned and craned my neck to glance at his list. "Fairly sure." I was almost certain Marta said today at eleven A.M.

He shook his head. "Hmm. I don't know why you wouldn't be on here then."

I muffled an aggravated groan. "Great, so I have to come back another time?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Of course not. Let's just bring you inside and take a look at the computer. We can take care of it today."

I thanked him and then followed him through the sliding glass door that led into the service department.

"What are you coming in for? Oil change?" He took a seat behind a tall desk with a computer terminal stationed on top of it.

I sat down across from him. "No. Um, a recall on something. I'm not sure what exactly; my housekeeper took the call."

He nodded and began typing on the keyboard. "And you have a 2008?"

I nodded back.

He looked strangely at his screen. "That's odd. Someone contacted you for a recall?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm afraid we have another misunderstanding. There are no recalls on your model at this time."

"Huh?"

"I don't see any recalls in the system. Someone must have called you by mistake. People get on the wrong call lists all the time. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience."

I shrugged and picked up my purse and sunglasses from the desk. "All right. Well, since I'm here, I might as well get my oil changed. I think I'm due in a few hundred miles anyway."

He typed again. "Okay. And how about we'll get you a complimentary rental car to compensate for bringing you down here. That way you can just come back tomorrow to pick up your vehicle."

I smiled. "Perfect."

As I crawled on all fours around the backseat of my car, scrounging for any last-minute items I would need to have in the rental, I heard the service guy's voice call from outside. "Jennifer?"

"Yeah!" My voice strained as I carefully attempted to back out through the open door, a stack of loose papers in hand, and step onto the ground. But unfortunately, I wasn't able to avoid an inadvertent and very painful bump on the top of my head.