It was about three hours later when James resurfaced from his reports. The tiniest of dents had been made in his to-do list, so it was time to take a walk and get some coffee before his body collapsed in on itself. He stood up, stretched creakily, then headed out of his office to see how the others were doing. The first person he saw was Gabriella in the gray bedroom, hunched over her laptop as James walked in.

“Any word from Records?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, not looking up. “James, did you know there’s been over three thousand UFO reports in Worcester County alone in the past hundred years?”

“I wish that surprised me,” he said. “I’ll check in with Bradley when I see him and let you know.”

Bradley wasn’t in any of his usual upstairs haunts, so he was probably in the gym. James started toward the basement, then paused as he remembered his own overdue workout. He wasn’t going to have a chance to get in a couple miles between when the evening cases started and midnight tonight. So he might as well do it now, whether Bradley was in there or not.

He changed quickly, then went back downstairs, sludgy music hitting him before he even opened the door to their little gym. When he walked in, Bradley was running full-tilt on the treadmill. He looked up, but didn’t say anything.

James got on the other treadmill, which was far too close, but there was nothing to be done about it in a room this small. “Sorry,” he said. “I have no other time to workout today.”

“It’s your gym too,” Bradley said.

“I’ll try not to sweat on you.”

Bradley scowled at him, nearly tripping on the treadmill. “Careful,” James said.

“Fuck off.”

James started his workout, his treadmill going much slower. “You didn’t hear from Records yet, did you?” he asked.

Bradley shook his head, slightly breathless. “No.”

“Dammit.”

He wished he’d remembered his headphones this morning, he kind of hated the music Bradley listened to when he worked out. But it beat running in silence. He wasn’t positive about this, but he was pretty sure that was true.

James’s thoughts wandered to the house last night as he ran, the slightly varied rhythms of both treadmills catching in his ears underneath distorted electric guitars as he considered the case from a less emotional angle. It seemed like it had been the boogeyman, the quintessential boogeyman in Krissy’s closet. The way it moved was too deliberate for a shadow person, unless it was intentionally fucking with him. And there were no hats to be seen anywhere, except maybe Krissy’s snow hats tucked in on the shoe rack. 

Celia said Krissy had been talking about a monster in her room for a little while. How long? He’d have to call her and get as specific an answer as possible, because something must have happened to set it off. Thankfully, this wasn’t poltergeist activity, which was not something James felt like dealing with lately after what happened to Gabriella at the Wildwood Hotel. So what was it?

The sound of Bradley turning off his own treadmill broke James out of his thoughts a little while later. He was almost done with his own workout, but not quite. 

“I’ll follow up on the records,” Bradley said, wiping his face on a worn black towel. “I have to call about a few things, anyway.”

“Great, thanks,” James said. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Want that on?” Bradley asked, motioning toward the radio.

“No.”

“Want me to change it?”

He had this image of Bradley moving through radio stations, hitting one of the many Christian contemporary stations in the area now, and leaving it there for James in an act of revenge for one of James’s many sins. “I’m all set.”

Bradley cleaned off his treadmill and left, shutting off the radio as he went. The silence was almost jarring once James was alone in the room. He tried to get back into that zone of concentration he’d been in, but there was no getting back to it and the last mile dragged on endlessly until the treadmill beeped and he was free.

After taking a shower and grabbing a quick supper to bring into his office with him, James was back in front of his computer. He scrolled through the second digest email of the day, but none of the emails seemed to be particularly pressing or involve him. 

At least until he saw Sharon Delgado’s name. The captain from Coos County, New Hampshire made her disdain for the Foundation clear, and James got the feeling that she’d also been targeted for retaliation based on the way she talked about her workload back in the late spring and early summer. It all lined up with his, especially when she said they’d been sent on a case in southern Maine. But her subject line here made his heart sink as he set down his leftover spaghetti.

Subject: Records Department

Have any of you been able to contact anybody at all in the Boston Records Department today? My team has begun one of the many historical cases they’ve sent us, but they aren’t providing any of the original documentation and we have not heard from anybody.

James sent a quick reply explaining his own situation, then turned to the next email, which was something that he and Bradley were going to have to sit down and fight over tomorrow. Not that tax-deductible retirement funds were something that should be fought over, but James knew himself and Bradley well enough that he was going into that meeting armed. 

But his planning was interrupted a few minutes later by a non-listserv email coming in from Captain Delgado.

James –

I wanted to let you know first, though I will be sharing this with the other captains as well. I finally got in touch with someone at the Foundation and the entire Records staff has been eliminated. Apparently they were told this a few weeks ago and yesterday was everybody’s last day. This is not the first I’ve heard of layoffs, but our liaison (who leaves next week) assures me that they are all on an administrative level. I don’t believe this, or that their definition of “Administrative” lines up with ours.

I was told if we need extra material, then someone from our branch will need to go to the main office to get it. The discussion after this was not productive, but I will speak to them again in the morning.

Regards,

Sharon

An entire department had been eliminated. So much for “no more layoffs” or “admin only.” James ran his hands down his face and let out a breath. The records department was just gone. He needed to call McGovern. And he needed to tell Gabriella and Bradley. And the indecision of which of those two terrible conversations to start with had him momentarily frozen, until he opened a new email to McGovern. Paper trail, he needed a paper trail. Sharon herself had told him that.

Subject: Records department

Hi,

I heard this afternoon that the records department staff was eliminated as of today. And that branches will need to go to the Foundation in person and get the materials they need for the historical cases. Please confirm what, if any, of this is accurate.

Thank you.

James

He knew how much of it was accurate. All of it. But if it was in writing, there was no way for the Foundation to get around answering, at least without looking like assholes. He wasn’t sure if that would actually stop them though, since they never seemed concerned about looking like assholes before. 

There was a knock at the door. “Hey, James?”

It was Gabriella. “I’m done wrapping up the report for the Wesson house,” she said. “Do you need anything else before I go? I’ve got another hour, but I can do some cleaning.”

“Actually, yeah,” he said. “Come in for a sec.”

She actually looked a little nervous, which James hated. But she sat down in the kitchen chair across from him and waited for him to speak. “So I just found out that the Foundation’s records department is no longer staffed,” he said. “That’s why they didn’t get back to you or Bradley. There was nobody there to check the voicemail.”

Gabriella looked at him silently, eyebrows raised. “So I just don’t get the documents?” she asked after a second. “Does that mean we’re not doing the old cases?”

She nodded at the two surviving boxes stacked in the other kitchen chair. The bottom one was close to caving in under the weight, but James was hoping it would hold on for him, just for a little longer. “Unfortunately, no,” James said. “Though I’m going to bring that up with McGovern once he confirms what I already know. But Captain Delgado at Coos County said she was told people would have to go to Boston and get the files themselves.”

Gabriella groaned. Then she groaned again, louder this time. “So you mean the branches up by, like, Canada are just expected to drive down here and do it? That’s an eight or nine hour drive. Depending where they are, they might have to literally leave the country and then come back in order to do that.”

Her bizarre knowledge of minute geographical details in different states lined up with what James had known about Gabriella growing up. But she’d definitely gotten snarkier in her year here, barely recognizable as the kid who had been terrified to criticize their higher-ups. But he couldn’t blame her for her frustration. “I doubt they’ve put enough thought into it to consider anyone outside the main branch,” James said. “But yeah, basically.”

“Is there anything I should do right now about it?”

James shook his head. “Just go do whatever you were going to do. Is Bradley still here?”

As he said it, he remembered Bradley was supposed to have left about thirty minutes earlier. “Yeah,” Gabriella said, to James’s utter lack of surprise. “Want me to grab him?”

“Nah,” James said, and her relief was obvious. “Is he out back, do you know? I just have to let him know too.”

By the time he was back at his desk, having told Bradley both what had happened and to go the hell home, there was an answer from McGovern.

Captain McManus,

Yes, unfortunately the staff in Records was let go, so there is no longer anyone available to send out materials. If teams require additional material from Records, a team member will need to come to the main branch to get it.

James took a slow breath, trying not to give that flash of anger any fuel.

Understood. But please be aware that this means historical cases will be even further delayed based on staffing.

HIs phone rang moments later.

“Unfortunately, we still need you to complete those cases as quickly as you can,” McGovern said cheerfully as James rubbed at the headache forming across the entirety of his brain. “I noticed that the, um-” He consulted something on his end. “Blueberry Hill Farm case is on your docket. That one has been unsolved for a very long time, so the sooner you can get it done, the better. Maybe send someone tomorrow to pick up the files.”

“My staff has a full day of tasks tomorrow,” James said. “I don’t know if we can afford to lose anyone for even a few hours. Does this mean they’ll have to go into the archives and find all the files on their own?”

A moment of silence for those archives if that was the case. “Yes, unfortunately,” McGovern said. “And if they can’t come tomorrow, then the soonest they’ll be able to is next Tuesday.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, we need someone to let them in,” McGovern explained. “And that all depends on when there’s someone in the mailroom.”

“Right,” James said. The headache intensified. And across the room, that bottom box of files finally collapsed, sending old manila folders all over the office floor. “Alright, yeah. Fine.”

“I know it’s frustrating,” McGovern said. “It’s frustrating on my end too. But it’ll be worth it once everything is updated and improved.”

“You honestly believe that?”

“I do.”

Good for him. James certainly didn’t. 

---

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 9