"If the ghost is gone and the house is haunted, we talk to the people who saw it happen," Ronan declared back in the Gearhouse, changing their strategy. "We find the other survivors."
Cain's work was methodical and swift. He procured the official list of casualties and survivors from the disaster. The document made for grim reading. Of the two dozen survivors, more than half had died in the intervening decade. Most of the others had left Terminus, their trails gone cold across the continent. For a full day, it seemed their new path was just another dead end.
"Everyone is either dead, gone, or was on the far side of the station, a clerical worker who saw nothing but dust," Ronan said, striking the last name off his list with a frustrated sigh.
"Almost everyone," Cain corrected him quietly from the corner. He had been working from a different source—not the public record, but a deep-level municipal employment archive he had gained access to. He slid a single sheet of paper into the center of the table. It contained one name: Tomas Reik.
"Junior Maintenance Worker," Cain elaborated, tapping the paper. "He was on duty in the primary control room on the night of the disaster. Survived the initial blast. Discharged one month later." He paused, letting the weight of the next words sink in. "Official reason: 'Severe psychological trauma and mental instability'. He has been a resident at the Quiet Harbor Sanatorium ever since."
Liam looked at the paper, his heart hammering against his ribs. A living witness. Someone who had been there, at the center of it all.
"Why wasn't his name on the public survivor manifest?" Ronan asked, his eyes narrowed.
"Because someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure it wasn't," Cain replied. "He wasn't important enough to be erased completely. He was just… filed away. Buried in paperwork. Forgotten by everyone."
They had found their thread. A thread that someone had tried very hard to break.