"Can you bring this into focus?"

"Dude, that's science. I found the pictures. We got the deal, or what? You said we had a deal."

I concentrated on the blurred license plate. It did not clear. A computer-graphics technician might be able to tighten the image. They can work miracles with this stuff. But not always. I closed the file. George Reinnike vanished.

I tucked the laptop under my arm, then nodded at Pike. He went to the door and waited. I turned back to Thomas.

"I'll set it up with Pardy. You'll have to testify against Stephen, but I'll make sure they cut you a deal. If you try to weasel or get funny, our deal is off and I'll let them have you. We clear on that?"

"We're clear."

"They get your testimony about the prostitution, the blackmail, all of it. We clear?"

Dana said, "Yes."

They looked like rabbits caught in the headlights when Pike and I left.

We walked back to Pike's Jeep, both of us silent until we reached the street.

He said, "Close."

"I'll find someone to sharpen the image. There has to be a way to do that. Maybe Chen."

I left Pike at his Jeep and continued toward my car, thinking about it. Close, but still out of reach, like an imagined image of my father.

When I got home that night, I put Stephen's laptop in my front closet, covered it with a raincoat, then drank a glass of milk. I ate a banana, took a shower, then tried to go to sleep, but I kept seeing the long line of names on the list. I was worried that Pardy wouldn't go along and I wouldn't be able to leverage the deal for Thomas and Dana even though I had given my word. I was worried that I would not be able to read Reinnike's license plate and would never know the truth. I stared into the darkness gathered at my ceiling thinking these things until I grew angry with myself, and got out of bed.

I turned on all the lights in my house, then brought Stephen's laptop to my dining room table. The cat came in as I worked, and sat silently, watching me.

I opened the files one by one as Thomas had done, until I found the long list of JPEGs. I scrolled down to the three pictures that were named VICTORIA, whose real name was Margaret Keyes. I deleted them.

I still had Margaret's cell phone number. I called her, even though it was two in the morning. I did not expect her to answer, but she answered on the fifth ring. From the background, she was at a club or restaurant with other people. Or maybe it was just the TV.

"Hello?"

"This is Elvis Cole. You don't have to say anything. Just listen."