Maybe it was just my glasses that needed cleaning, but the water appeared amber, as if it had been used more than once. With practiced ease, Torrez slid the empty pot under the drip and motioned for us to join him in his office. “I want to show you something,” he said. That was an improvement over sitting in a blue funk. Inactivity didn’t suit the man. As he rounded the corner of his desk, he pushed the computer screen so that it turned to face us. “I finally figured out what I wanted to look for,” he said. “This is for the past twelve months.” Estelle scanned the screen-load of data far more quickly than I, but she didn’t have bifocals to deal with. “I don’t follow,” I said. “What am I supposed to be seeing?” “How many arrests were there statewide for fraudulent or altered driver’s licenses, sir?” Torrez asked. He sat down behind the desk. “Six, it looks like.” “That’s six in an entire year, for the entire state.” “Right.
