The screen threw a pale blue glow over his knuckles.

“Do you know his Social Security number?” Vance asked.

“I know it by heart,” I said.

I recited all nine digits.

Vance typed slowly with two index fingers and hit the enter key with a loud clack.

The laser printer in the corner whirred on and spat out three pages.

Vance picked them up and frowned.

He started wiping his glasses again.