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IT TAKES JIMMY AND Esposito all of the next day to find what they hoped they might find, if they finally did catch a break.

The separate company that Hank Carson had hired to install the camera in the feeder—called WeSeeU, an outfit neither Jimmy nor Esposito has ever heard of—wouldn’t even talk to them until Danny got a court order.

Once he did, they checked back on Hank Carson’s account and told them that the camera was still operational on the date in question, the night the murders at the Carson home had been committed, the battery not dying until a month or so later.

But whatever footage there was, from that night and the time leading up to it, was stored on Hank Carson’s iCloud.

Jimmy and Esposito have set up shop at Jimmy’s house by now. Court wasn’t in session today because Katherine Welsh requested an additional twenty-four hours—and perhaps more than that—to prepare for cross-examining Rob Jacobson once Thomas McGoey finishes with him.

Welsh doesn’t know that Jane has quit the case. Apparently, the judge hasn’t said anything to Welsh, because he thinks Jane will change her mind. It just says to Jimmy that Judge Michael Horton hasn’t been paying close enough attention to the action.

Jimmy and Danny Esposito are seated side-by-side at Jimmy’s kitchen table now, both of them staring at the screen of Jimmy’s laptop. It turns out that Carson, paranoid to the end, had separate iCloud accounts, too.

They don’t have a password for the one where the feeder video is stored.

“So how do we get in?” Jimmy asks. “And good luck trying to get a court order that Apple ever gives a shit about when someone is trying to storm the privacy barricade.”

“You forget something,” Danny Esposito says. “I already hacked into Jane’s phone as a way of keeping track of her.”

“Another gift?” Jimmy asks.

“Bet your ass,” Esposito says.

“You figure out a way in and I might kiss you,” Jimmy says.

“Wait,” Esposito says, “that’s your idea of a pep talk?”

It takes a couple more hours, but eventually they gain access to Carson’s files. At one point Esposito says, “Check this out,” touching his index finger to the screen.

“All I’m seeing is numbers,” Jimmy says.

“This is a bank account I bet even the lovely Mrs. Carson didn’t know existed,” Esposito says. “It turns out that old Hank did pay Sonny back before he died.”

Esposito needs more time to sort through Carson’s files and all their various hidey-holes, a lot of them containing very detailed accounts of what a shitty gambler he’d been, Esposito bitching every time he would end up going down another rabbit hole.

Finally, Danny Esposito says, “Now I’ll be damned.”

Both of their noses are nearly touching the screen.

They turn to look at each other, then back at the screen, and the images on it.

Two men, captured on the camera from the bird feeder, walking in through the back door of the Carson house, guns out.

The time stamp lines up perfectly with the evening of the murders.

And this time stamp, they both know, is real.

Jimmy puts up his hand and Esposito gives him a soft high-five.

“Gotcha,” Jimmy says to the images of Eric Jacobson and Edmund McKenzie on the screen in front of them.