the enter key.
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Tony Rollins passed behind her and rolled his eyes, but Morhart just shrugged. Nancy could drive folks crazy, but her heart was in the right place.
“You want me to call Gary?” she asked. “You know all roads eventually lead to Gary.”
Gary Moore was the town’s technology guru.
“No, I’ll call. The fucking town’s blocking all the good Web sites again.”
Two years ago, after it was discovered that eight of the ten most-frequented Web sites on the town network were sex-related, the town had finally started tracking Internet traffic, issuing warnings and threatening to go further for inappropriate usage. Apparently the Big Brother tactics didn’t go far enough, however—at least not for the accountant who racked up nearly thirty hours a week watching online porn from his desk. When the local news broke the story, the higher-ups demanded stronger action.
Now poor Gary Moore had to foresee all of the idiotic ways town employees might squander their time online and block all the fun stuff in advance. Jason knew from experience why he was getting that frustrating message about the Web site being blocked. He’d received the same error alert a few months ago when he was investigating a sex offender who groomed his victims by enticing them to look at pornography with him. Every time Jason tried to pull up one of the sites listed in the suspect’s browser window, there went the alert.
He picked up his phone and dialed Gary Moore’s number. “How can I help you, Detective?”
The town’s network was for shit, but the caller identification seemed to work just fine.
“First you block my porn. Now it’s Facebook? Pretty soon we’ll be down to nothing but National Geographic and the weather channel. Oh wait, they might show bikini shots for the weather in Miami.”
“Don’t get me started about the smut on National Geographic. Some of those baboons are pretty kinky.”
“Seriously, Gary? Facebook?”
“I know, it’s ridiculous. But the order came down from on high.”
“Too many hours spent on social networking ?” The name struck Jason as the ultimate misnomer. Socializing for the asocial. Like Happy Hour at a skid-row bar.
“Definitely. Major online time suck. But with this particular Web site, the blocking was personal. You didn’t hear it from me, but apparently thanks to Facebook, the mayor’s wife got a little too cozy with one of her ex-boyfriends from high school. Now he’s got his panties in a bunch over it. No town employee can access Facebook from a public computer.”
Morhart had met Dover mayor Kyle Jenson. And he’d seen his smoking-hot wife in those reelection ads. If she was stepping out on her husband, Facebook had nothing to do with it.
“Jesus. Seems like half our cases pull us online, and half of those run me right into one of these blocking problems. Can’t you exempt the detectives from this stuff?”
“Yeah, right. You mean to tell me Rollins had a work-related reason for every single one of those replays he hit on the Miss Howard Stern page before I got appointed the town’s cyber czar?”
Leave it to Rollins to mess it up for everyone.
“Well, can you at least unblock me? I got a missing girl and need to check out her Facebook page.”
Morhart heard a clucking noise in his earpiece.
“I saw that on the news this morning. My wife and I were sort of hoping it was a runaway kind of deal.”
“Might be, but I don’t think Jenson wants me telling the girl’s mother I’m not really sure because her mayor got cuckolded by his wife and won’t give me access to the resources I need to find her daughter.”
“No, I don’t imagine he’d be happy with that explanation.” Morhart took the sound of keyboard tapping on the other end of the line as a good sign. “All right. I unhooked you from the nanny system. Run. Be free. But don’t let
This page has been blocked. Please try again later or contact your network administrator for assistance.
Tony Rollins passed behind her and rolled his eyes, but Morhart just shrugged. Nancy could drive folks crazy, but her heart was in the right place.
“You want me to call Gary?” she asked. “You know all roads eventually lead to Gary.”
Gary Moore was the town’s technology guru.
“No, I’ll call. The fucking town’s blocking all the good Web sites again.”
Two years ago, after it was discovered that eight of the ten most-frequented Web sites on the town network were sex-related, the town had finally started tracking Internet traffic, issuing warnings and threatening to go further for inappropriate usage. Apparently the Big Brother tactics didn’t go far enough, however—at least not for the accountant who racked up nearly thirty hours a week watching online porn from his desk. When the local news broke the story, the higher-ups demanded stronger action.
Now poor Gary Moore had to foresee all of the idiotic ways town employees might squander their time online and block all the fun stuff in advance. Jason knew from experience why he was getting that frustrating message about the Web site being blocked. He’d received the same error alert a few months ago when he was investigating a sex offender who groomed his victims by enticing them to look at pornography with him. Every time Jason tried to pull up one of the sites listed in the suspect’s browser window, there went the alert.
He picked up his phone and dialed Gary Moore’s number. “How can I help you, Detective?”
The town’s network was for shit, but the caller identification seemed to work just fine.
“First you block my porn. Now it’s Facebook? Pretty soon we’ll be down to nothing but National Geographic and the weather channel. Oh wait, they might show bikini shots for the weather in Miami.”
“Don’t get me started about the smut on National Geographic. Some of those baboons are pretty kinky.”
“Seriously, Gary? Facebook?”
“I know, it’s ridiculous. But the order came down from on high.”
“Too many hours spent on social networking ?” The name struck Jason as the ultimate misnomer. Socializing for the asocial. Like Happy Hour at a skid-row bar.
“Definitely. Major online time suck. But with this particular Web site, the blocking was personal. You didn’t hear it from me, but apparently thanks to Facebook, the mayor’s wife got a little too cozy with one of her ex-boyfriends from high school. Now he’s got his panties in a bunch over it. No town employee can access Facebook from a public computer.”
Morhart had met Dover mayor Kyle Jenson. And he’d seen his smoking-hot wife in those reelection ads. If she was stepping out on her husband, Facebook had nothing to do with it.
“Jesus. Seems like half our cases pull us online, and half of those run me right into one of these blocking problems. Can’t you exempt the detectives from this stuff?”
“Yeah, right. You mean to tell me Rollins had a work-related reason for every single one of those replays he hit on the Miss Howard Stern page before I got appointed the town’s cyber czar?”
Leave it to Rollins to mess it up for everyone.
“Well, can you at least unblock me? I got a missing girl and need to check out her Facebook page.”
Morhart heard a clucking noise in his earpiece.
“I saw that on the news this morning. My wife and I were sort of hoping it was a runaway kind of deal.”
“Might be, but I don’t think Jenson wants me telling the girl’s mother I’m not really sure because her mayor got cuckolded by his wife and won’t give me access to the resources I need to find her daughter.”
“No, I don’t imagine he’d be happy with that explanation.” Morhart took the sound of keyboard tapping on the other end of the line as a good sign. “All right. I unhooked you from the nanny system. Run. Be free. But don’t let
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