of the news in a haze, too drained to get up and turn off the television, too content to want to leave her apartment in search of a pizza or burger for dinner. Brandy was curled up in her lap. If she hadn't wanted to spend some time examining the kidnapper's hard drive she would have gone to bed.
The police spokesperson, whom she now could say she had actually met, was on TV again. He gave an update on the murder of young Chas Johnson. Analysis of his blood showed he had used a substantial amount of methamphetamine in the hours before his death. The police officer gave his opinion of "the rural person's drug of choice," as he called it, and its heavy use in Iowa. Great, she thought to herself as he told of two instances of middle school students caught with some. So far Buckingham had been immune from any drug use. Of course, she thought with black humor, most of the other schools didn't have back-to-back break-ins and kidnappings, either.
Christa yawned and turned off the TV and went back to her den. She had just finished loading the kidnapper's hard drive into her computer when the phone rang. "Christa, Kirk here."
She experienced the delightfully warm feeling she was beginning to associate with Kirk Reynolds and fought the sensation. He only sounded so friendly because he was happy about Amy, she reasoned.
"I never got a chance to say a real thank-you this afternoon. You took a big chance meeting that man alone, and I'll be forever grateful," he said.
Kirk Reynolds forever grateful. She could handle that.
"Listen, there's just one more matter of police business," he continued.
Christa's heart sank. He was just trying to butter her up because he wanted something.
"We have a match on those prints from the inside of your computer."
"That's great," Christa exclaimed. "Do you think you can catch the kidnapper pretty fast?"
"Nope. They belonged to a guy named Chas Johnson."
Why did that name sound familiar, she wondered?
"The guy who was in your classroom was killed late Friday," he said. "If he was connected to the men who kidnapped Amy, we're working with an even more dangerous group than we thought."
Christa felt her throat go dry. She wished the kidnapper's hard drive were anywhere but her computer.
"Listen," he continued, "It's late. Amy's finally winding down, and I promised her I'd read to her before I left. Tomorrow we'll talk some more about those computers."
Without waiting for her to say goodbye, Kirk hung up. Christa stared at her receiver as she recradled it. She would look at the hard drive now and give it to Kirk first thing tomorrow. For the first time, she realized that by substituting her hard drive for the one she had kept she would be left with only the shell of her own computer, which would be useless. Perhaps Mr. Watkins would give her a good deal on a replacement.
She powered up her computer and looked again for the specific file she had found earlier in the day. MNYACCT.EXE. "What's so special about you?" she asked aloud.
Brandy meowed and brushed against her leg. "Hush, cat. This is even more important than posting grades." Christa studied the file name and thought about what to do. It wasn't a very large file; she guessed it contained the equivalent of one typewritten page. The file was protected in some way so that she had not been able to copy it, but there had to be a way to learn what it contained.
She knew how to use the various programs that she bought for her classroom as well as those she had bought for home, such as one that let her develop designs for her needlework. But, she knew little about the technical aspects of the computer. If you wanted to get into a program you either clicked on a picture icon using the mouse or typed in all or part of the file name the search box. She typed the file name and nothing came up.
She went to the C prompt screen and typed in "MNYACCT." She was rewarded with an error message. She thought some more. Presumably ACCT stood for accounting.
The police spokesperson, whom she now could say she had actually met, was on TV again. He gave an update on the murder of young Chas Johnson. Analysis of his blood showed he had used a substantial amount of methamphetamine in the hours before his death. The police officer gave his opinion of "the rural person's drug of choice," as he called it, and its heavy use in Iowa. Great, she thought to herself as he told of two instances of middle school students caught with some. So far Buckingham had been immune from any drug use. Of course, she thought with black humor, most of the other schools didn't have back-to-back break-ins and kidnappings, either.
Christa yawned and turned off the TV and went back to her den. She had just finished loading the kidnapper's hard drive into her computer when the phone rang. "Christa, Kirk here."
She experienced the delightfully warm feeling she was beginning to associate with Kirk Reynolds and fought the sensation. He only sounded so friendly because he was happy about Amy, she reasoned.
"I never got a chance to say a real thank-you this afternoon. You took a big chance meeting that man alone, and I'll be forever grateful," he said.
Kirk Reynolds forever grateful. She could handle that.
"Listen, there's just one more matter of police business," he continued.
Christa's heart sank. He was just trying to butter her up because he wanted something.
"We have a match on those prints from the inside of your computer."
"That's great," Christa exclaimed. "Do you think you can catch the kidnapper pretty fast?"
"Nope. They belonged to a guy named Chas Johnson."
Why did that name sound familiar, she wondered?
"The guy who was in your classroom was killed late Friday," he said. "If he was connected to the men who kidnapped Amy, we're working with an even more dangerous group than we thought."
Christa felt her throat go dry. She wished the kidnapper's hard drive were anywhere but her computer.
"Listen," he continued, "It's late. Amy's finally winding down, and I promised her I'd read to her before I left. Tomorrow we'll talk some more about those computers."
Without waiting for her to say goodbye, Kirk hung up. Christa stared at her receiver as she recradled it. She would look at the hard drive now and give it to Kirk first thing tomorrow. For the first time, she realized that by substituting her hard drive for the one she had kept she would be left with only the shell of her own computer, which would be useless. Perhaps Mr. Watkins would give her a good deal on a replacement.
She powered up her computer and looked again for the specific file she had found earlier in the day. MNYACCT.EXE. "What's so special about you?" she asked aloud.
Brandy meowed and brushed against her leg. "Hush, cat. This is even more important than posting grades." Christa studied the file name and thought about what to do. It wasn't a very large file; she guessed it contained the equivalent of one typewritten page. The file was protected in some way so that she had not been able to copy it, but there had to be a way to learn what it contained.
She knew how to use the various programs that she bought for her classroom as well as those she had bought for home, such as one that let her develop designs for her needlework. But, she knew little about the technical aspects of the computer. If you wanted to get into a program you either clicked on a picture icon using the mouse or typed in all or part of the file name the search box. She typed the file name and nothing came up.
She went to the C prompt screen and typed in "MNYACCT." She was rewarded with an error message. She thought some more. Presumably ACCT stood for accounting.
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