Once the e-mail, accounting, and word processing files were on a flash drive, we moved on to the locked filing cabinet. A key in the receptionist's desk meant we didn't even need to pick the lock.
Quinn took the top drawer and I took the bottom, working together.
"Damn it, this isn't easy wearing latex," Quinn muttered. "The pages all stick together."
"You don't usually need to be discreet, do you?"
"Discreet... sometimes. But avoiding prints, no."
I thumbed through another folder. "I'm trying very hard not to put the pieces together, you know. Figuring out what federal agency you're with."
I tried to make my voice light, teasing, but in the moment of silence that followed, I cursed myself for mentioning it. When I glanced up, his expression was puzzled.
"You don't know? You said Jack told you my specialty was - No, I guess I misinterpreted that to mean Jack had told you who I work for. I thought he would - tit for tat. I'll keep you guessing..." His wide lips curved in a grin. "At least for another hour or two. After we're done here, we'll see how close you are."
I finished with my drawer - all very old records - then pulled out the next one and set it on the floor.
"Man, all these files," he said. "All these couples wanting kids. Hard to believe."
I laughed, keeping it quiet. "I take it you don't want any... or don't want more."
"More?" He paused. "Shit, I keep forgetting. We've been talking online for six months and we couldn't even do the 'first date basic info exchange.' No, I don't have any kids. As for wanting... I'm not saying no, just..."
"It's not in the forecast. Same here."
He exhaled, as if correctly answering a quiz question. "I've got a passel of nieces and nephews. I love being an uncle. Taking them to movies and minigolf and baseball games. Even coach their teams. But when it's all done, and I've tired them out and loaded them up with soda and ice cream, I get to drop them off at home."
"That's the way to do it."
"Everyone's always trying to set me up with nice divorcee moms. But just because I like kids doesn't mean I want my own, you know?"
I pulled out a thick folder. "I hear you."
"Have you got nieces and nephews?" he asked.
I shook my head as I returned the folder. "I've just got the one brother and he hasn't reproduced yet... at least not as far as I know. We aren't close."
"Really?"
I shrugged. "We never were and then... what happened with me, it was tough on him and my mom, so that pretty much nailed the coffin shut." When Quinn looked confused, I said, "The shooting. It got ugly afterward, with the media. Huge embarrassment for them."
"Embarrassment?" His voice took on an edge. "You made a mistake. Hell, I wouldn't even call it that, except the part about getting caught. But your family should have been the first ones to step up and - " He shook his head. "Sorry, I just mean..." He shrugged. "Their loss anyway."
I smiled. "Thanks."
"So - " Another head shake. "Sorry, I'll shut up and work. We'll have plenty of time to talk later. It's just..." He met my gaze. "There's a lot to say."
"I know."
He nodded and returned to the files.
We didn't find anything in the paper files, though we did copy the employee records. There would probably be more in the computer files.
By the time we got out, it was almost two, but no one was ready to call it a night. So when we passed a plaza advertising both an all-night liquor store and takeout pizza until three, we pulled in. Quinn went for the liquor store, Jack into the pizza parlor, and I kept the car warm. Quinn returned first, with a twelve-pack of beer.
"Even got Labatts," he said as he climbed in. "Just for you."
"Having tried American beer, you have no idea how grateful I am."