On my way out he handed me a paperback with a map printed on the inside of the front cover.

“Start with this one,” he said.

“There’s a fella in here who keeps a tally.”

Megan Brooks stopped by my desk at five thirty carrying the quarterly logs in a canvas tote.

“April through June,” she said.

“Sign the top sheet, and initial every twentieth page.”

I signed.

She stood there smoothing the lapels of her cardigan, eyeing the stack of files on my credenza.