“It skips from frame thirty-nine right to frame forty-seven,” I said.

Martha closed her key ring tighter in her palm, the metal keys scraping dully against the tabletop.

“Somebody asked for the physical volume from the basement archive last month.”

“Did they put a name on the checkout card?” I asked.

“The log sheet doesn’t show a personal name,” she said, her voice falling so low I had to lean over the table to catch it.

“It only shows an administrative fee exemption form.”