jonathan emerges freshly showered, a towel around his waist as he walks toward the rows of lockers.
jonathan is flipping through the stack of photocopies, then halts on one. he stares at it. the receptionist peers over.
jonathan pacing the floor, paranoid. he holds detective russo's card. knows he should call back. he abruptly reaches for the phone, and dials.  another number.
jonathan snaps his laptop lid shut, packs it in his gym bag, in which we glimpse the photo he's kept with him of "s" smiling up at him. he then turns to his cell phone once more. he picks it up, scrolls the menu, punches a number.
close on jonathan's laptop screen as it defuzzes from sleep. the screen as it was, cursor blinking by the request for an access code. wyatt watches intensely as jonathan starts to type -- then pauses, looking confused. jonathan quickly reaches around. to the back of his laptop, feels an empty jack - and suddenly turns pale.