It’s blurry, quick, and unsteady, but somehow Tank rigged the exposed camera eye of his phone somewhere on his chest area and captured video of Horton sitting across from him and gently pushing a small brown box across the desktop. The audio is all garbled and unclear, but the footage is clear enough to make a positive ID on Horton, and, judging from the trophies and framed photos on the wall and shelves behind him, to prove that the setting is Horton’s office. It stops after twenty seconds and cuts to a crisp segment of Tank filming himself in a boys’ john at Blaine Memorial. After staring into the camera, he aims it down at the small cardboard box resting near the sink. Tank’s free hand then comes into frame and opens the top of the box, which houses ten small glass injector bottles. Removing one of the bottles, he gets a great close-up of a Decabol label.

And then it’s over.

“This is insane,” I say.

“My brother’s smarter than I thought.”

She’s about to shut the laptop down when I say, “Wait. What are you doing?”

“I’ve seen enough. He obviously knows what he’s doing.”

“At least go online and email me the files.”

“What?” She gives me a look. “No. Why do you need them?”

“So I can have a copy. So we can have a copy, Sarah. What if something goes wrong? What if Tank screws up? I mean, I don’t know if this stuff would hold up in court or anything, but don’t you think it’s important enough that somebody should have a second copy?” I pause. “He’ll never know. Just send them as attachments and clear the browser history.”

Sarah bites her lower lip and looks away. Then she calmly shuts down the computer, stands, and crosses to the TV, where she returns the thin laptop to its exact original location.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Zach.”

I stand. “Why won’t you send me the files, Sarah? We need backup copies.”

“You just listened to and watched the backup copies,” she points out, her face flushing with anger. “Think about it. The originals are on his phone.”

“And if they’re not?”

Silence.

Then she says, “I’m beginning to think you’re a very selfish person.”

“Selfish? I’m trying to help your brother. We don’t know what his plans are. We should form a plan of our own. Just to be safe.”

“Tank’s clearly building his own case against Horton. Let him do it. He’s the victim, not us.”

“Whatever,” I say.

“Whatever,” she says, mocking me. “Are you using me?”

“Using you?” I say. “No! I…I think I love you, Sarah.”