I considered my next words carefully, aware of the weight of her gaze on me. I could sing the “I’m only in it for the money” song. But take my past, put it together with my current line of work, and even Jack had known, from the start, why I was in this. That’s why he’d never suggested I branch out, try anything more lucrative. Knocking off a couple of wiseguys a year? Sure. Killing someone’s wife to convey a message? Never. Not even if that one job would equal years of work for the Tomassinis.

So I only looked at Evelyn and said, “Does that bother you?”

“Not a bit, as long as I’m not in danger of being murdered in my bed. I can’t say I understand it, but it does have its advantages.”

“Advantages?”

“Drive. Passion. Sometimes, in this job, it can be more important than keeping your cool. And certainly more interesting.” She turned back to her computer. “Now, let’s see what we can find.”

I spent the next two hours with Evelyn as she cruised the information highway, letting me tag along at the far end of the towing rope. Evelyn bobbed between the two levels of the Internet, searching the mainstream Web and its underground tendrils. When she pulled a particularly clever maneuver, she’d pull in my towline and let me see what she was doing, but when it came to the nuts-and-bolts of surfing the underbelly, she’d block her keystrokes or shift in front of the monitor, all the while promising to show me this part “another time.” In other words, she wowed me with fancy footwork, but held back on the basic steps, like a dance teacher offering a free lesson to encourage a prospective student to shell out for the full course.

Finally, we found something—a short article more than fifteen years old. In it, Carson Morrow, victim number two, was mentioned as one of four teens who’d been in a car when one of the quartet died in a single-vehicle accident. That was all we got. For once, the reporter had focused on the life of the victim, not the circumstances of his death. Had Morrow been the driver? Had he somehow been responsible—maybe egging the driver on or supplying alcohol? The article didn’t speculate, only listed him as one of the survivors and ending with a vague “no charges have been filed at this time.”