The winter sun hung low in the sky, casting pale light through the windows of George's Chicago apartment. Snow had fallen overnight, blanketing the city in a layer of white that muffled the sounds of traffic and life. It was the kind of day that invited reflection, the kind of day that made George think about everything he'd uncovered and everything he still didn't know.
He sat at his desk, the leather journal open before him. He'd read it cover to cover at least a dozen times now, but still, something nagged at him. Something he'd missed.
Sam found him there, a cup of tea in her hand. She set it down beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder.
"You've been at this for hours. What are you looking for?"
George looked up, his eyes tired. "I don't know. Something I missed. Something I
