“And how would I retrieve it?”

“You’d have to hack into her account. And you’d need your sister’s phone or laptop. And the username and password.”

“Sierra can hack anything,” Isabelle said proudly. “She hacked into our school’s database to figure out who had the highest GPA.”

“I didn’t change anybody’s grades or anything illegal like that. I just wanted to know, in case our dipshit administration named one of the cool kids valedictorian,” Sierra said. “It wasn’t me, obviously. I only made a B in AP English.”

“And she hacked her boyfriend’s phone…”

“Ex,” Sierra said.

“… and figured out he was out there on Tinder trolling for cougars,” Isabelle said.

Sierra allowed herself a small smirk. “Busted!” She looked over at Letty, whose expression answered her next question. “So, you don’t have her phone?”

“No,” Letty said, her shoulders slumping.

“Hmm.”

Sierra sat down at the postage stamp–size table, unzipped her backpack, and brought out a slim silver laptop. “You’ve got Wi-Fi here, right?”

Letty nodded and told her the name of the network— “‘MURMURING SURF,’ all caps”—and the password.

Sierra’s slender fingers danced over the keyboard with lightning speed. “A lot of people don’t bother to come up with a unique username for all their apps and devices. Big mistake, but it happens. Worse than that, lots of times they just leave the factory-set default password on their device. Like, a password that’s 1–2–3. How dumb can you get?”

As dumb as me, Letty thought, silently vowing to change the password on every app and device she owned.

“Okay,” Sierra said. “I’m on the TriCommCo website.” She held the nanny cam next to the laptop. “Looks like this is their most-expensive-model camera, which isn’t great news, because the cheapest cameras are usually the ones with the worst security lapses. We need to log on to her TrimComm website and they will ask for verification from her email. Tell me your sister’s email address.”

“It was Tanyaterrible, all one word, at gmail dot com,” Letty said.

Sierra snickered as she typed. “Okay. Let’s try obvious passwords in email first. How do you spell the little girl’s name? And what’s her birthday?”

Letty spelled out the name. “M-A-Y-A. And her birthday is 09–23–2014.”

“Nope,” Sierra said a moment later. “Too easy. Give me all the clues you can think of. Your sister’s birthday, her phone number, street address, nickname?”

“Our grandmother called her Terrible Tanya, that’s where her email address came from,” Letty said. She supplied three combinations of the other ideas the girl requested, but nothing worked.

“Crap,” Sierra said. “We can’t try another password, or we’ll get locked out of her account. We’ll give it forty-eight hours and try again. In the meantime, think about other possibilities like her husband’s birthday? Or their anniversary?”