“After that, you’re on the computer with the rest of the sinners.”

“Start me off at 2019.”

He rolled his chair back and let me work, and I turned the crank until the print made my eyes blur.

There it was at frame 214.

A lien against 412 Birwood Lane, filed in October five years earlier, for twelve thousand dollars.

“Tom, come look.”

He came over and read it upside down, the way people who do something for a living always can.

“Robert Hayward,” he said.