I pull out my cell and flip it open. “You snuck out. Any chance I can sneak in and take some pictures?”

“In the crawlspace?” she asks. I nod. “Right now?” she says. I nod again. She looks horrified at the thought.

I shrug. “Your dad hibernates, remember?”

“Yeah, but it’s one in the morn—”

“Sarah, it’s now or never. Tank comes home tomorrow morning. You might not have another chance to get down there for weeks.”

She thinks about it and finally nods, saying, “Okay. But if my dad wakes up and hears somebody in the crawlspace … well, I’m not responsible if he shoots you.”

“That’s comforting,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Thanks, Sarah.”

She turns toward her window, waiting for me to give her a boost, which I gladly do. She’s amazingly silent as she slides through and turns, looking down at me from inside her bedroom now, motioning for me to join her. It’s one of those rare times when I’m actually glad I’m a skinny beanpole, because I’m able to prop myself up and through the window rather gracefully for a dude.

She opens her bedroom door without a squeak and leads me into the hallway, where I steal a glance at the locked door to Big Dale Foster’s Room of Weaponry. My skin turns to gooseflesh at the thought of him waking up and coming at me with his arsenal. Part of me suddenly wants to dart back into Sarah’s room and dive out the window to safety, but all that would do is prove how uncourageous I actually am.

We reach the basement without making a sound, a couple of high school ninjas. The crawlspace door squeaks as usual when I open it, but there’s no way somebody sleeping above and at the opposite end of the house would hear it. Sarah gestures with her hand, waving me onward as if to say, hey, you’re on your own on this one.

Knowing the terrain, I turn on the light and enter the tight space quickly and expertly, shuffling forward in that same crouching position I used before. I find the green tackle box in the exact same spot, around the corner of the stack of boxes on the far right. Opening it, I check the bottom and see that Sarah was right. Five empty Decabol bottles and accompanying used needles rest at the bottom of a separate baggie. Another baggie contains several unused bottles and needles. I don’t see any D-Bol pill bottles this time, leading me to believe that Tank is done with the oral stuff and sticking with injecting.