There's a slap of papers as Melody flips through the file open before her, but it's almost unnecessary. She knows exactly what's in there, from the amount of long, dark nights she's spent going over everything, nursing a glass of liquor in the low lamp light.

Looking up, she unfolds a sheet under his nose, tapping at a spot a map that's been drawn and indicated many times. "That's where it happened," she tells him, apparently in midflow of a conversation that he should understand.