Dr. Jay Branson
Journal Entry
At approximately 1600 hours, Mrs. Grace Solomon was brought to my office, per my request, which was on account of the officers requesting her presence. She entered the room cautiously, eyeing the extra inhabitants. She seemed to know what had happened. The question was how much. The cops were skinny men—effeminate, almost. Like little boys in grown-up clothing.
“Sit down, Grace,” I said, offering a chair. She moved quickly, without hesitation.
She folded her hands in her lap, picking away at her fingernails. I noticed they were nearly down to the quick. “They’ve found the children.”
With the news came a wave of emotion. It sucked all the air in the room out. It was unclear from her reaction whether she had any indication of what this meant. Her hand flew
