After he tossed the bags into the back of the truck, enjoying the sound of loose coins jangling inside the bags, he made one last scan of the street before quickly locking the doors and climbing behind the wheel of the truck to move on to the next stop.

When his day was done, he usually went home and cleaned his gun. Then he cracked open a Tecate and drowned out his wife and kids with an onslaught of reality television.

But one night, before going home, he stopped off at a small, no-name coffee shop in the suburbs and rented time on a computer.