Howie was paged down from intensive care and I met up with him in the main waiting room. He looked as bad as I felt.
"He slashed her throat," he said. "She's out of surgery but she lost a lot of blood and can't speak. They say another fraction of an inch, or another five minutes. . ."
We consoled one another. I updated him on all we'd learned, with the only good news that baby Claire was alive and apparently well.
"If he does to Molly what he's done to the others, it will kill Julie. And it's my fault for bringing her into this mess. I wish I'd never started it! I'm responsible for Martha and Quinn and now maybe Betsy and Molly as well." I wanted to remind this troubled soul of the good he'd wrought but thoughts of Betsy prevented my saying the words. "I wish Quinn were alive," he said. "I could find them.
"We could try," I said. He looked at me but said nothing.
I knew he wanted to remain close to Julie so I said nothing further about trying to go back. It killed me, knowing we might remain here, doing nothing, and not knowing what was happening to Betsy and Molly. Howie and I must have shared thoughts.
"Why don't you dig through Quinn's stuff and see if you can make any sense out of it? I'll come along as soon as I can." He handed me the room key. It was as much as I could hope for given the circumstances. Patrolman Murphy drove me back to the Pacific Crest Inn, this time in an unmarked car. He insisted on leaving the vehicle at my disposal in case I needed it. A patrol car returned him to duty.
It was strange being Quinn's room although the only remnants of him were his machines. A realization he'd never touch them again didn't dispel the feeling I was prying into his world. I stood amidst the familiar instruments, wondering where to begin. I'd seen those confusing dials and switches hundreds of times in the past, but unfortunately, never paid them a lick of attention. I had no idea even how to begin.
I knew Quinn kept cryptic notes of machine settings and results but I was sure the majority of his writings remained in Keene. While he never owned up to it, Betsy and I knew he retained records of ventures into the deeper past, where Howie refused to go. That was the scientist in Quinn, frustrated that within grasp he held the partnered ability with Howie to go where no one before them had ventured. While he reveled in our successes, he never could let go of the scientific potential his partner refused to embrace.