“No,” Keegan said. “You don’t understand. I need to talk to the lieutenant.” Both his arms were wrenched back, but he kept pressing forward, back along the hall towards the open door of the interrogation room.

Down the hall, Darnell came out through the doorway with the folder under one arm, followed by Lieutenant Moore.

“Lou,” Keegan called out. “Lou.”

The lieutenant looked in his direction, surprised, and, just as their eyes met, the cops kicked Keegan’s legs out from under him and brought him down hard to the floor. His face glanced off the tiles and then he lay with the side of his head on the floor, no longer struggling. His second takedown of the day. His bottom lip pulsed with pain.

A pair of well-polished black shoes came into view.

“What’s going on?” Moore’s voice said up above him. “Let him up.”

Keegan was pulled roughly to his feet again. One of his shoes was missing, and his stocking foot felt cold and vulnerable on the floor tile.

“Let go of him,” Moore said roughly. “It’s okay.”

The hands holding Keegan released him, and he took a quick sideways step to keep his balance. He rolled his shoulders away from the cops and dug his foot into the empty shoe on the hallway floor. He felt a bubble of blood at his mouth when he exhaled.

“What is it, Jimmy?” the lieutenant said.

Keegan glared at the two uniforms and then looked at Moore. “The photographs,” he said. “Let me see them again.”

The lieutenant regarded him evenly. “You sure?”

“Yeah, Lou, I’m sure,” he said. “I think something’s missing.”

The lieutenant sighed. He shot Darnell a look and then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “And uncuff him. He’s fine.”

Moore led him back towards the interrogation room, and Darnell fell in behind them.

As he walked, Keegan pulled out the front of his shirt and saw a spray of blood there. His lip pulsed numbly. He lifted his arm and wiped the blood on his sleeve. It wasn’t too bad, just a trickle, really.

This time, Moore sat in the chair opposite Keegan’s, so Darnell set the folder on the table and then stood with his back to the two-way mirror, self-consciously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“What is it you want to see?” Moore asked. He set the first photo on the table face up. Eve lay on her back on the sand with her one hand beckoning the viewer closer. Keegan looked away.

“Not that one,” he said. “The other. The close-up.”

The lieutenant set that photo down on top of the other and leaned in, so he could watch Keegan’s face.