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‘No, not you,’ she said, patting the space beside her.
The monitoring company. The service was still in place – she just chose never to set the alarm in case she activated it by mistake and had to explain to the despatched patrol officers that her life wasn’t being threatened, she was just shit with technology.
She scrolled to the number on her phone Leanne had put in when she’d set up the account.
The phone was answered on the second ring. She listened as the male operator stated the name of the company and an offer to help.
‘Hi, I wonder if I might check the details on my account to make sure they’re up to date.’
‘Of course,’ said the friendly voice. ‘Let me just ask you some security questions to verify your account.’
After answering a few questions, as well as giving her password, the operator was happy to help.
‘I’m sure my own details are correct as the first keyholder, but I think the second keyholder may be out of date.’
All monitoring companies insisted on at least two contact numbers in case the first couldn’t be reached.
‘No problem. I can update that for you now.’
‘If you just read off the existing number, I’ll know if it’s right.’
He was happy to do so, and she quickly wrote it down. She smiled. It wasn’t a number she recognised, meaning there was a good chance, given what had been going on at the time, that Leanne had listed herself as second contact.
‘Oh no, I was wrong,’ she said to the waiting operator. ‘That is the correct number. Please leave it as it is.’
She thanked him and ended the call. Maybe one night for shits and giggles she’d set off her alarm and then not answer the safety-check call so Leanne would get a nasty surprise.
She keyed in the number and prepared herself for a barrage of anger and indignation. It wasn’t a number that Leanne had offered for general use.
The call rang out until it clicked over to a generic voicemail.
Damn it.
She tried again.
Same response.
Kim hoped Leanne wasn’t under the impression she was ringing for a leisurely catch-up. She guessed the other woman was as fond of those conversations as she was. This was business and she needed answers.
She growled at her phone and wondered if it was possible to have any interaction with her that wasn’t fraught with frustration.
‘Okay then,’ Kim said, hitting the message icon. One way or another, she was going to tell Leanne what she wanted.
She typed and read her text three times.
Ian Perkins, mid-thirties, released from prison eight years ago under assumed identity. Need his details. Life and death situation.
There, short and to the point, she noted before pressing the send button.
She watched the message as it was delivered. Within a minute, it had been read.
She waited patiently for any sign of a response.
She took her phone back to the kitchen while she poured another drink.
Nothing.
She sat back down beside Barney, who hadn’t even bothered to follow her.
