WHEN LOREN GOT BACK to the county prosecutor's office, Roger Cudahy, one of the techno guys who'd gone to Cingle's office, was sitting with his feet up on her desk, his hands folded behind his head.
"Comfy?" Loren said.
His smile was wide. "Oh yeah."
"Don't we look like the proverbial cat who ate the proverbial canary."
The smile stayed. "Not sure that proverbial applies, but again: Oh yeah."
"What is it?"
With his hands still behind his head, Cudahy motioned toward the laptop. "Take a look."
"On the laptop?"
"Oh yeah."
She moved the mouse. The darkened screen came to life. And there, filling up the entire screen, was a snapshot of Charles Talley. He was holding his hand up. His hair was blue-black. He had a cocky grin on his face.
"You got this off Cingle Shaker's computer?"
"Oh yeah. It came from a camera phone."
"Nice work."
"Hold up."
"What?"
Cudahy continued to grin. "As Bachman Turner Overdrive used to sing, you ain't seen nothing yet."
"What?" Loren said.
"Hit the arrow key. The right one."
Loren did it. The shaky video started up. A woman in a platinum-blonde wig came out of the bathroom. She moved toward the bed. When the video was finished, Cudahy said, "Comments?"
"Just one."
Cudahy put out his palm. "Lay it on me."
Loren slapped him five. "Oh yeah."
