The man on the screen approached Linsy. They spoke for several minutes. Their body language wasn’t intimate, but it held a familiarity that spoke of shared history, of old secrets. Then, as she walked away, the man did something extraordinary. He glanced around, then stepped to the trash can Linsy had just used. He began to sift through the shredded confetti of paper she had deposited.

Michael’s blood ran cold. This wasn’t a random observer. This was a co-conspirator. And as the camera ...