An eternal truth of the human condition was that no one ever thought they were evil. No matter how reprehensible their actions, people always convinced themselves they were justified.

“Was that why you were at the library?”

“Yeah. He said that Fridays was the day the library wiped its servers so it was safe. No one would ever know.”

“Wiped its servers?” That didn’t even mean anything. No one wiped servers weekly, and certainly not a public library.

“Yeah. He’s a pro.”

“He?” Gibson asked. “He who?”

“Dunno, man. The guy. He, him. I got this letter a year ago. Well, it wasn’t a letter. It was just like taped to my front door. Said he was an ‘enthusiast’ just like me. That he’d found me on the Internet on some database where you can find ex-cons that done like me. Had my picture and address. He said he was reaching out to everyone in the area to see if, maybe, we could create a little ring of ‘like-minded individuals,’ that’s how he put it. All fancy and shit. Like-minded individuals.”

“For what?”

“To pool our . . . you know . . . resources.”

“Trade pictures?”

“Pictures. Videos. Uh-huh.”

Gibson saw it. Someone had turned the National Sex Offender Registry into a social networking site for pedophiles. The start-up from hell.

“And he told you about the library wiping its servers?”

“Yeah, he said on Fridays during the wipe that it was all anonymous, and I could download as much as I wanted and no one would ever notice.”

“But only on Fridays.”

“Only on Fridays. Guy had it all worked out.”

“So who is this guy, Kirby?”

“Dunno, man. Never met him.”

“Come on.”

“No, for real. That was like rule numero uno—that everyone should be anonymous so we couldn’t flip on each other if shit went south.”

“But he knew who you were.”

“What?”

“Well, he approached you. So he knows who you are.”

That evidently hadn’t occurred to Tate.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know who he was, so . . .”

He watched Tate’s stupidity collapse on itself.

“Kirby, it’s only anonymous if everyone’s identity is secret.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so. But, you know, he was real cool.” Tate’s wheels were spinning now. “He helped me out. He wouldn’t give me up.”

“And yet here you are.”

Tate stared at him for a long minute. Gibson made it a point not to look away. He watched the tumblers slowly fall into place in Tate’s mind.

“Motherfuck,” Tate spat.

The big man stood and stalked in circles around his cell, cursing. Gibson allowed Tate to blow himself out and slump back to the ground in front of him.

“What did he tell you I done? I mean, we didn’t even trade all that much.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, man. I sent him some stuff at first, but he never had anything for me, so I quit sending.”