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"We definitely don't use it often enough," Maisie agreed.
Dylan shrugged, grinning. "We're real Luddites. We bought a smart home two years ago, set up with all the bells and whistles, and everything convenient you could think of, and we've wasted its capabilities."
"Maybe there’s a Picnic button we haven’t used yet?" Maisie suggested, and Dylan laughed.
It had been weird, buying a home equipped with so much technology that they didn't really use or need, although the last owner had clearly loved it. They'd bought it for its space and its location, close to both of their workplaces, and to a main street with shops and restaurants. But Maisie always thought they'd let the house, and the previous owner, down by not exploring its potential. They just lived their lives like normal people. Which now, she was regretting. If she’d had all the smart functionality activated, maybe she would have seen who was in her house while they were away.
Was it a neighbor? One of the kids? A thief casing out the joint? She felt distracted by the worry all over again.
Then, she heard the ringing of her phone, which almost immediately became louder as it hooked up to the car's bluetooth. You see, she thought to herself, technology really was helpful. These days, you could answer a call at the touch of a button and not risk causing an accident by taking your eyes off the road to root around in your purse.
She pressed the button on the steering wheel and picked up the call, noticing that it was from an unfamiliar incoming number.
"Maisie speaking," she said.
"Maisie Abson?" The voice was sharp, deep, and stern. She had no idea who it was.
"That's me, yes. Who's that?"
"It's Agent Connor, FBI.”
Maisie exchanged an incredulous glance with her husband. The FBI?
"What are you doing calling me? How did you even get this number?"
"I think you've got the wrong number," her husband intoned. "We don't have any business with the FBI at this time, but someone's been pranking us, and we're done with it."
"If you're the one who has been messing with our home, I suggest you stop doing it," Maisie said angrily.
"Ma'am, it's urgent. Please, listen." Now there was a definite note of intensity in this stranger's voice.
"If you're really the FBI, then I will speak to you when I'm home," Maisie said, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, even though she herself didn't think this sounded legit. "You can call me back in, say, thirty minutes' time."
“I need to give you a warning.”
Maisie stared at Dylan in disbelief. “I don’t think so!” she said. This was veering into the ridiculous.
"No, ma'am, please! Don't go home—"
“I’ll call you when I’m out of the car. Please, I need to focus on my driving now.”
Sighing, Maisie cut the call.
"Now the FBI doesn't want us to go home?" Dylan asked, sounding annoyed. “Who’s harassing us this way. It can’t be the actual FBI.”
"I wish I knew what was going on," she said. "I feel like someone's invaded our life, somehow, with these strange things happening in our house. Maybe it is the FBI."
"I am sure those strange things were just the neighbor’s kids, pranking us."
"How did they deactivate the alarm, then?"
This man was calling again. Maisie cut the call irritably without picking up.
"Kids these days know how to hack into alarms. It doesn't take much IT knowledge to do that. It makes me wonder if it's even worth having an alarm system in place,” Dylan explained.
"This call didn't sound like a kid. It did sound genuine, but I can’t speak to the FBI when I’m driving!"
"Maybe that really was the FBI," her husband said. "There have been recent crimes in the neighborhood. I don't have time to listen to the news, so I don't know the details. But perhaps they wanted to know if we'd seen or heard anything. Probably, they’re interviewing people. In which case, I guess we do need to talk to them."
