The next several days failed to fulfill Quinn’s dire fears of assassins breaking into her house to snuff her life out. She spent the days off going over the files and over the analysis Quinn sent her regarding the physical locations of the report events.
They painted a picture centered around not just the lab, but more generally around the iron works. That fit with the stories that had circulated around the town since that time. There was a definite concentration on the lab in the reports, but there was no way to know for sure that it wasn’t simply selection bias—that other events had happened but the police were unaware, and so they weren’t in the case file.
Gran calmed down after that night, though his memory got bad again right after. It was like he was retreating into the past, she thought. When Thursday came and it was time for her to return to the job, she had little choice but to bring in help to mind him. He went back and forth between sharp and clear, except about the date he was living in, and befuddled and hazy-minded.
“I hate leaving him like that,” she complained.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you. So what did they come up with on these files while you were off?”
“Not much more than we came up with, at least not about anything important. They got some additional information on the officers that collected the reports, if that matters at all.”