“Look at this fixture, Elena,” Dad had said, clapping his hands together once with clipped authority.

“High-definition lens, wide angle.

Covers the whole desk.”

At the time, I had assumed he meant a magnifying bulb to help him read his forty-five-dollar prescription receipts without straining his eyes.

Looking closely at the lamp now, I saw the tiny glass lens set into the carved brass scrollwork, angled directly toward the steel safe and the center of the blotter.

A thin black power wire ran along the back leg of the desk and plugged into an external surge protector hidden behind the wastebasket.