Stevie crossed to a woman asleep on the couch and pulled a blanket to her chin. He caught Nate watching and shrugged, grabbing his glasses from the coffee table and shoving them on. “My mom has MS. Today’s a bad day. Anyway, what do you want my help with?”

Nate tried not to look surprised. “I need some video footage enhanced. Do you know anybody who has that sort of technology?”

“Why don’t you take it to your guys?”

“Come on, I’m sure you know people who have technology capability five times better than my guys’.”

“Let me have a look,” Stevie said.

Nate emailed Stevie the file from his phone and followed him down a narrow hallway. They passed a room with black light bleeding under the door.

Stevie shook his head. “Don’t look over there.”

In contrast to the rest of the house, Stevie’s bedroom was surprisingly neat. Pushed against the far wall was a single bed made with military precision. A white bedside table held a couple of cute little cacti and a stack of books by French poet Charles Baudelaire. Nate squinted to read the title of the top one: The Flowers of Evil.

Stevie’s desk took up most of the rest of the room, with two extra-large monitors, a couple of huge speakers, and a sleek MacBook Pro.

Yesterday Nate would’ve bet his annual salary that this stuff was stolen. But today? Shit, what did he know?

Next to the desk Nate spotted a couple of plastic storage containers, each meticulously labeled: EXTENSION CORDS, CABLES, PHONE CHARGERS.

Pulling the old Nokia phone from his pocket, Nate held it up and pointed at the containers. “Do you have a charger for this?”

Stevie looked at the phone. “Probably.”

He popped the lid off one of the storage bins and rifled through, finally tugging out a cord that was precisely wrapped into a neat figure eight. He found an empty socket and plugged the phone in for Nate, then sat in front of his computer.

Stevie’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he clicked into some fancy-looking video software. He opened the file to the time stamp Nate had given him.

“There!” Nate pointed at the screen. “Can you see what she’s giving him?”

Stevie clicked the mouse. The grainy shot gradually cleared. He zoomed in and did the same again. Eventually a pixelated but clear shot emerged. The paper Emma was holding out to Gabe was a signed prescription for OxyContin from Allegiance Health Clinic.

Tightness banded around Nate’s ribs as all the pieces started clicking neatly into place.