"I send him these pictures, he's gotta download them, right? He's gotta save'm, print'm, make copies, whatever, so he can use'm to shake down the johns. If he downloads them into a file, then we don't need his password to get into his e-mail; all we gotta do is find the picture files, right?"

"Get to it."

"I figure you got three ways to get'm. You take that thing to the police like you was gonna do with mine, and maybe they find'm and maybe they don't. The other way is you pack it back to Stephen like you said, hope he's home, there aren't any witnesses, nothing like that, then put a gun in his mouth and hope he don't delete'm while you're looking the other way."

"What's the third way?"

He stared at me without expression in a way that made me feel obvious. I felt myself flush.

"What?"

"Whatever you're after is important to you. You've been here twice now, and you're in a hurry. You don't want to wait for the police and you don't want to mess around with Stephen. I'm not saying I can find those pictures, but I got an idea how, so maybe I can save you some time."

He let it hang. I knew what he wanted.

"When I send Stephen the pictures I give each of them its own name. If Stephen didn't change the names, I might be able to find them. Save you all that time. But I gotta get a pass on the crimes. I got the three strikes."

Pardy might go for it. He told me he wasn't interested in sex crimes, but this was a slam-dunk blackmail and extortion conviction, and it was a major case. If he wouldn't go for it, Diaz would go for it. I thought I could deliver the deal.

"Show me the pictures."

"You gotta get me a deal."

"I'll get you the deal."

Thomas sat at the laptop. He opened and closed several scrolls until a window appeared, asking which file he wanted to find. He typed DANA1.JPEG, then clicked a button to initiate the search. A tree chart showing files within files appeared with the DANA1.JPEG at the bottom.

Thomas suddenly laughed as the tension blew out of him.

"Be damned."

The tree chart showed that DANA1.JPEG was in a file called DUMMIES, which was in a file labeled ASSOCIATES, which was tucked within another file called ED'S VACATION, which had been stored in yet another file with the innocent name COVER LETTERS, which was located on the hard drive. Thomas copied the names, then closed the finder window to open the hard drive. He opened each file in reverse order, beginning with COVER LETTERS, then ED'S VACATION, then ASSOCIATES. Each time he opened a file, Dana and I leaned over his shoulders, trying to pick out the next name in a jumble of other files. When Thomas finally opened DUMMIES, the screen filled with a list of tiny file names in alphabetical order-

ALLIE1.JPEG

ALLIE2.JPEG

ALLIE3.JPEG

ANGELA1.JPEG

ANGELA2.JPEG

There were hundreds of JPEGs. Maybe a thousand. Many of the names showed more than one series-

BARB1.JPEG

BARB2.JPEG

BARB3.JPEG

BARB2/1.JPEG

BARB2/2.JPEG

I said, "Why the different series with some of the names?"

"Different johns."

"You took all these?"

"Uh-huh."

Pike said, "You're a piece of shit."

Thomas knew better than to glance up. He knew better than to crack wise or give with an attitude.

I pulled Thomas out of the chair and scrolled down the list-Dana had been photographed with seven different men. When I opened the first series, it showed a milky night shot of Dana outside a bar with an overweight man in a business suit. The angle of the picture suggested it had been taken from the opposite side of the street, and the pale colors indicated some sort of electronic light enhancement had been used instead of a flash. It was obvious by the man's expression he didn't know he was being photographed.

The next series showed Dana, a second young woman, and two older men on a sleek white boat in Marina del Rey. Dana and the other woman were wearing thong bikinis and nose zinc. The angle and graininess indicated the picture had been taken with a long lens, probably from one of the restaurants or apartments that lined the marina.

I opened the first picture in the last series, and saw George Reinnike. The photograph had the same milky quality as the other night shots-the colors bleached with a too-bright wash from the optical enhancer. Reinnike was wearing a plaid, long-sleeved shirt with the cuffs buttoned, but no jacket, and a set of car keys was clearly visible in his right hand. Dana was kissing his cheek, but he looked surprised and embarrassed, as if he didn't want this kind of attention in a public place. They were standing by the tail end of a brown Honda Accord, though the way they were standing I couldn't see the dent or the license plate.

Thomas said, "Go on to the next one. I know you can see the plate in one of'm."

The next picture was wider, revealing more of the surroundings. Dana was approaching Reinnike, but had not yet reached him. He was leaning toward the motel, as if caught in the awkward moment when he was deciding how to respond. His dubious expression suggested he was worried she was going to make a scene or ask for more money. I could see the top edge of the license plate, but it was blurry and unreadable.

Thomas said, "Goddamnit, I know I had it. I got one more here. Open it."

The third angle was the widest. Dana was on her toes, with her arms around Reinnike's neck. The dented left rear wheel well and the missing hubcap were obvious. Thomas hadn't remembered the car from a fast glance; he had studied the pictures to choose the best shots for Stephen. The entire license plate was visible, but blurry and unreadable, like a face in the fog.

Thomas leaned closer.

"Shit. I can't read it."

It appeared to be a California plate, but I couldn't be sure.

"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.