"What? Did you think I was going to wander around and peek into your secrets?" Thomas muttered as he shovelled the bland food into his mouth. "I'm an investigator, Zig. I don't need to leave the room to find what you're hiding."
With less than three hours remaining in his allotted time, Thomas increased his speed. He was a blur of motion, unfurling and rolling scrolls with practiced ease, looking for the specific "Danders" case Trevor had actually requested.
And then, just as the afternoon sun began to dip low enough to change the shadows in the room, he found it. Tucked inside a heavy bag stained with old sea salt was the report for the Danders Incident—the case that Trevor believed was the key to the present.
Thomas sat in the oppressive silence of the Vault's inspection room, the salt-stained scrolls of the Danders Incident spread across the wooden table like the dissected remains of a long-dead secret. He read with a mechanical intensity, his mind cataloguing every variable.
