Chapter 1

Karen flipped through the eight pages of the local newspaper without really seeing a word of what was written. Tears blinded her eyes and frustration fogged her mind. It was on the last page that something finally caught her attention. It was a simple two line advertisement that took up an inordinate amount of space on the page considering the brevity of the text. The first line read: Solutions, Incorporated. The second line was a phone number. She stared at the advertisement wondering why she had never noticed it before. Ads in the local newspaper didn’t change often.

If there was anything that Karen Osfeld needed at the moment it was a solution to any one of her numerous problems. Overwhelmed by life, she just wanted something to go right for a change. Nothing had gone right over the past few days. Grasping at straws, she carried the paper over to the kitchen phone. She dialed the number and, biting her lower lip in anxiety, waited for an answer. A deep male voice answered the call and softly said, “Solutions Incorporated.”

“I don’t know if you can help me,” Karen said realizing that she had no idea what kind of business she was calling.

“Do you have a problem?”

“Yes,” Karen answered.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. I can solve your problem.”

“You don’t know what my problem is,” Karen said. She was wondering if she had made a mistake in making the call.

“I have an opening at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, Karen Osfeld.”

Hearing her name, she froze. After a long pause, she asked, “How do you know my name?”

“Caller ID.”

“I know that caller ID gives Don Osfeld as the name,” Karen said. This conversation was kind of spooky.

“That is correct.”

“I didn’t tell you that my name is Karen.”

“That is true.”

“So how did you know my name?”

“I could explain, but that would take a lot of time. Let it suffice for me to say that being able to identify a solution to a problem requires having the facts. I’m very good at getting the facts.”

Karen was silent for fifteen long seconds. Finally, she asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m the owner of Solutions Incorporated. I’ll see you tomorrow in my office at ten o’clock in the morning.”

Not sure if she was going to go there, Karen asked, “Where is your office?”

“Check your e-mail.”

Before she had a chance to reply, the call was disconnected. Karen stared at the handset wondering if she had made a mistake in calling Solutions Incorporated. Lost in thought, she hung up the phone.

She looked over at the clock and realized that it was her normal time to head over to the library to check her e-mail for any messages from Don. It would have been nice to have a computer at home, but they didn’t have one. It was necessary to use one of the machines at the library. Every day she stopped by the library before picking up her daughter from school in the hope of getting some news from her husband.

Karen grabbed the keys to the truck and called out to her son, “I’ve got to go pick up your sister from school. Remember that you are grounded and are not allowed to leave the house.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“The Sheriff said that he would lock you up and throw away the key if he caught you outside the house,” Karen shouted.

“I know.”

It was a fifteen minute drive to the public library. Karen pulled into the parking lot of the small building. The only other car in the parking lot belonged to the librarian, Wanda Danzig. She entered the library and waved to Wanda before making her way to the computer terminals. Although Wanda was nearly fifteen years younger than her, circumstances had brought the two women close together. Their husbands served in the National Guard together.

It didn’t take long for Karen to get access to her e-mail account. Looking at the empty inbox, Karen stared at the computer screen feeling sick to her stomach. This was the third day in a row in which Don hadn’t sent an e-mail. She hoped that meant he was on a three day patrol and was okay. The alternative explanation was too dreadful to even consider.

She composed an e-mail telling him about her problems knowing that he couldn’t do anything to help her. He couldn’t discipline their son, pay the telephone bill, or comfort her in the middle of the night while serving his country in a foreign land. She really didn’t want to tell him that their son was facing time in juvenile hall and had dropped out of school. The timing was really bad; in two weeks Don wouldn’t even be able to call home.

Upon sending the message, she looked at her inbox just to double check that Don hadn’t sent an e-mail while she had been busy composing her message for him. There was one new message titled, “Appointment,” from magus@solutionsinc.net. Concerned about how he had gotten her e-mail address, she opened the e-mail. It contained a reminder of her appointment, the address of the place, and driving directions from her home to the office.

Karen looked around and gestured for Wanda to come over to her computer. When Wanda arrived, Karen asked, “Do you know anything about a company named Solutions Incorporated?”

“I can look it up,” Wanda answered confident in her ability to find anything on the internet. She sat down at the computer next to Karen and logged into the machine. It took a full minute before she was ready to work. She opened a browser and started typing in her favorite search engine. She frowned and tried some different search terms. “That’s strange.”

“What?”

“I can’t seem to find anything about it,” Wanda said.

“Try solutionsinc.net.”

Wanda typed in the domain name in the search engine. All that came back was a single link to a webpage that gave information about domain registrations. That was really odd since the search engine always gave back thousands of results even if there wasn’t a good match. She had never seen a single result returned. She clicked on the link. After looking over the webpage, she said, “Magus is listed as the owner of the domain solutionsinc.net. That’s all I seem to be able to discover. There’s no last name or street address.”

“I was hoping for a little more information than that,” Karen said.

There was a familiar ding indicating that an instant message had arrived. Wanda said, “Hold on. Someone just sent me an instant message.”

“Okay,” Karen said. She stared at her e-mail wondering if she was getting into something that was over her head.

“This is weird,” Wanda said. Karen looked over at Wanda and noticed that the woman looked pale.

“What’s the matter?”

“I got message from Magus. It just said — naughty naughty.” Wanda looked around to see if anyone was playing games with them, but she and Karen were the only people in the library. There was a ding. Leaning forward to read the screen, Wanda said, “I just got another instant message. It says that I have an appointment with Magus at Solutions Incorporated tomorrow evening. I’m to get the directions from you.”

“Are you going?” Karen asked. Little chills were running up and down her spine.

“You bet,” Wanda said angrily. She wanted to find out how Magus could discover that she was searching for information about Solutions Inc, find her instant message account, and know that Karen was there. “No one plays around with me like that.”

“I’ve got an appointment tomorrow morning,” Karen said.

“Are you going to go?”

“I’m kind of afraid to go there. This is kind of scary.”

“Take someone with you.”

“I don’t have anyone who can go with me. The man on the phone said that he could solve my problem.”

“If you decide to go there, call me before you go and after you leave. Tell them that people know where you are,” Wanda said.

“Thanks.” Karen glanced at her watch. She sent the e-mail from Magus to the printer specifying two copies to be printed. She said, “I’ve got to pick up my daughter from school.”

“Did Stephen drop out of school?”

“Yes. He’s restricted to the house. They let him go without bail as a favor to Don.”

“I sure wish our men were home,” Wanda said.

“Me too,” Karen said.

Wanda said, “I hate this war.”

“Me too.”

Skittish as a newborn colt, Karen stepped through the door leading to the offices of Solutions Incorporated and glanced around at the reception area. There was a simple desk, but no one was seated at it. The desk was barren except for a telephone. There were three functional chairs for waiting clients. One potted plant broke up the stark interior.

A man’s voice said, “Come into the office on the left.”

Karen stepped over to the office door. She stopped before entering the room and stared at the man seated behind the desk. He was a chubby fellow in his mid-forties. He had a baby face topped with sandy brown hair exhibiting hair loss in the characteristic pattern that plagued millions of men. He looked harmless enough. Not trusting appearances, she said, “Wanda knows I’m here.”