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the hard drive slot.
After rummaging around in a drawer, he took out a small screwdriver and within
seconds he had removed the computer's hard drive.
    I watched as he attached the drive to a hardware blocker he
had hooked up to the PC. This was a device that would allow him to see the
contents of the hard drive, but not let his computer do anything to it. Once
hooked up, he could examine the drive without worrying about modifying
anything, or he could make an exact duplicate. With this, he could perform any
further examinations on the copy, rather than on the original drive, so it
could be used as evidence. In my case, it didn't really matter. I watched as he
fired up his forensic software and began looking at the data on the drive.
    "What the...?" I heard him say as he looked at the
data on the screen. "These files are all shredded; nothing is in a logical
manner. Chunks are just... missing! What happened to this thing?"
    I looked closer at the screen. The forensic software
projected a graphical representation of the data on the hard drive. Unless you
use special software, when you delete something, it doesn’t actually get
erased. The computer's operating system merely flags the area where the file is
located as writable, but leaves most of the data intact. Assuming something
else hasn't written over it, the right person, or the right software, can
easily recover it under most circumstances. That wasn't going to happen this
time. It had been a while since I'd worked in the forensic lab, but from what I
could see, the data left behind was mangled.
    Mal shook his head before continuing. "Some kind of
advanced wiping program, maybe? Where did you say you got the thumb drive
from?"
    "I didn't, but it's from a client," I offered, not
wanting to explain further. I wasn't ready to tell him I got it from someone
claiming to be supernatural. "Can you tell anything else?"
    "Not with this machine. But let me play with this stuff
a while. If a program did this, I want to know how, and I want a copy!" he
declared, pushing back his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes
never leaving the screen. "Let me pull this stuff apart in the clean room.
Maybe I can find something it left behind." He turned to me with a
suspicious look.
    "I don't suppose you can tell me anything else about
these files?"
    I paused for a moment, wanting him to at least think I was
considering it. "Not yet," I replied. "Can you live with that
for now?"
    "Yeah, sure, but you're gonna owe me," he
snickered as he reached over and disconnected the drive. Then he picked up the
laptop and drives and carried them into another examination room as I followed.
"I gotta finish this other case; but I'll look at these when I get a
chance and give you a call if I find anything."
    "Thanks, Mal." I said, smacking him on the
shoulder in a friendly way. "I need to get back to work anyway." We
walked to the door together. I paused before I went out. "One more thing.
Let's keep this between us, ok?"
    "Keep what between us?" he joked. "Don't I
always?"
    I didn't say anything else as I left and headed for my car.
The truth was, we'd shared plenty of secrets over the years and we trusted one
another. I'd probably end up telling him most of what happened last night
eventually, except maybe for the magic part. I didn't need to burden him with
all of it.
    As I pulled into my parking spot in the back of my office, I
reflected on what had been happening to me. Magic beings, cursed computers, talking
dogs, bad dreams, you name it. It was turning into a helluva week. You'd never
know it from the way things were going, but most of the time my life was
boring. You read these stories about P.I.s and the dangerous and glamorous work
they do, but up to now, the reality had been somewhat different altogether.
    I'm not saying there isn't the occasional exciting moment,
but a lot of my work is done on the phone and on the computer. When I actually
do get out of the office, it's to talk to a