So I take out my cell and snap two pictures showing the whole bottom layer of the box and its contents. Then I take two close-ups of the bag with the used items, another two of the bag with the unused stuff. At first I’m a little worried about the lighting, but the results on the cell screen look clear enough.

Then, making sure my back is screening Sarah from seeing the box, I open the bag containing the used stuff, carefully reach inside, grab an empty injector bottle, and shove it deep into my front pocket. It’s a total spur-of-the- moment move. I have no clue what I’m going to do with the bottle, if anything, but something’s telling me it can’t hurt to have at least one piece of physical evidence just in case I have to confront Tank in the coming days.

After being sure everything’s precisely back in place, I scoot back toward Sarah and give her a thumbs-up as I exit the crawlspace. She turns off the light and gently closes the door.

“Mission accomplished?” she whispers.

“Done,” I whisper back.

“What are you going to do with the pictures?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure.”

“What?” She gives me a look. “You said you had an idea.”

“My idea was to take pictures. That’s what I did.”

“How do the pictures incriminate the coaches?”

“They don’t,” I admit. “But they sure incriminate Tank.”

She rolls her eyes. “We already know about Tank.”

“And now we have proof to confront him with, if necessary.” I pause. “Sarah, he’s lied to me twice about not using.”

“Fine,” she says, massaging her forehead with both sets of fingertips. “It’s late. You should get going.”

I gaze across the basement and spot Tank’s laptop resting below his sixty-inch TV.

“There has to be something else down here,” I say, walking toward the TV. “You ever check his computer?”

“No.” She sounds worried as she follows me.

We stand above the laptop for a few moments as if it’s a dangerous landmine or something. Sarah keeps giving me looks of doom.

“If I touch this he’ll know,” she says.

“There’s probably nothing on there. Just log in and see what comes up. We’ll never have another chance like this.”

“I don’t know any of his passwords.”

“Just check the recent files. Maybe he keeps a diary or something.”

“My brother, keep a diary?” She covers her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “Yeah, right.”