Adelmo called the lab first thing the next morning to see what they found out about the DNA from the crime scene. He no longer wondered if he would be questioned, because the truth was that he didn't know anything else to do.

When the scientist answered the phone, Adelmo reminded him who he was and asked about the results of the DNA analysis.

“I think I was wrong yesterday.”

Adelmo‟s heart sank. Would it turn out to be a false lead?

“Wrong about what?” Adelmo asked.

“The hair is human.”

“What? I thought you said it was definitely animal hair.”

“It came back as a human follicle,” the scientist said. “The same for the blood.”

“But you said yesterday that…”

“I know what I said,” the scientist interrupted, “but I was mistaken.”

Adelmo didn't know what to say. The scientist didn't strike him as the kind of guy who made mistakes that often, certainly not the same mistake on two separate pieces of evidence in the same case. Something didn't add up.

“Mr. Madison? You all right?”

Adelmo snapped out of his shocked reverie.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just seems strange that…”

“It happens all the time. I shouldn't make snap judgments like that.”

There was an odd silence, as if the scientist wanted to say more.

Adelmo sensed he shouldn't push him. If the guy wasn't going to tell him, he obviously had already made that decision, or else it had been made for him, and Adelmo was unlikely to convince him otherwise over the telephone.

Besides, Adelmo didn't even have authorization to speak with him and certainly not about an active investigation in which Adelmo was involved.

“All right, I appreciate your time, mister...” Adelmo suddenly realized he didn't even know the man‟s name.

“Hanson. Doctor Leonard Hanson,” the scientist said.

“Thank you, Dr. Hanson,” Adelmo said.

“No problem. Why don‟t you come in after lunch, and you can take the report over to Detective Minkah.”

Adelmo froze. Why would he want me to do that?

As if Dr. Hanson had heard his unspoken question. He answered, “I figured since you brought in the evidence, it might ease your mind to give the report a look-see.”

There was something odd going on, and Adelmo felt helpless to figure it out. Was it possible that the scientist still didn't know who he was?

“Sure, I can do that. What ti…”

“How about one o'clock?”

“Sure,” Adelmo said, hanging up the phone. “That was strange,” he muttered to himself. Back in the lab, Dr. Hanson hung up the phone, and looked at Nik, who was sitting across the desk.

It was now 10 o‟clock, so Adelmo decided to go by the store to see if the wolfman had shown up. He pulled up to the store and noticed that Lana‟s car wasn't there. Adelmo went to the door hoping she‟d at least left a message on the answering machine.

She hadn't, but she had left a note saying she had to drop off a book for a customer and would be back shortly. The odd thing was that she had never delivered a book for a customer before. What was so different about this time?

Adelmo decided to wait and clean the store to pass the time. As he swept up between the stacks, he noticed a book sticking halfway out of one of the shelves. It was completely out of place, as either he or Lana always lined up all the books at the end of the day before locking up, and he doubted Lana had any customers that morning before she left. It was almost as if the book had been pulled out on purpose as a way to draw attention.

Not only that, Adelmo had never before seen the book in his store. It looked familiar, but he wasn't sure where he had seen it last.

He looked up to see Lana returning from her errand.

“What book did you deliver?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Lana replied, almost as casually, “A book on how to calm and kill a werewolf.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Took it to the wolfman.”

“Lana, that guy could be dangerous!”

“I thought maybe you'd want to know where he lives.”

Adelmo was stunned. “But you could have just told me.”

“I wanted to make sure...”

“What?”

“Nothing. He seemed okay.” Hoping to score points with Adelmo.

Adelmo looked in her eyes and could tell she was trying to protect him. She wanted to go first in case the guy was still acting like a whack job.

“I don‟t know what to say.”

“You could try telling me what‟s really going on. I‟m worried about you, Adelmo.” She turned away, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, but it looked to Adelmo like she might have been trying not to cry. He went over to her.

“Hey,” he said, and she turned to look at him, eyes bright. “I appreciate your concern, really I do.”

“Where would I work if something happened to you?” she asked, as if that was really the basis of her worried look.

“I'll tell you everything when I come back from Romania after seeing my grandfather.”

Her eyes widened.

“Your grandfather, I almost forgot!”

Lana rushed back into the office and emerged with a package wrapped in plain brown paper and addressed to Adelmo.

The return address was his grandfather's in Romania.

“It's been a long time since you've talked about your family,” Lana said gently. Adelmo had told her that he was originally from Germany, but that his family had moved to Romania when he was small for a reason that he never understood.

From the look on her face, she was beginning to figure out there was more to his family history than he‟d let on. She handed him the package, their hands lingering slightly as he took the package from her.

“Thanks, Lana.”

Their eyes met, probably for the longest gaze they'd ever shared.

“I'll...need that address if you got it.”

“I'll write it down for you.”

Adelmo nodded and took the package into the office, closing the door behind him. He was still reeling from the moment of intimacy with Lana. The look in her eyes, the touch of her hand, the fact she had gone to the strange man‟s house without telling him to make sure it was safe.

There was a lot more to Lana than he realized.

Adelmo sat down and opened the package.

Inside was an old journal. It looked to be at least a hundred years old. He opened it carefully. It was handwritten in a language he guessed was Romanian, but he couldn't quite be sure. It was almost as if it was pre-Romanian, from an earlier time when the language was still splitting off from Latin.

He closed the book and reappraised its cover. Maybe it was a lot older than he initially thought.

He set the book aside and noticed an envelope underneath it, taped to the inside of the brown wrapper. Adelmo peeled the envelope from the paper and turned it over, recognizing the spidery handwriting of his grandfather.

It was addressed to Adelmo Madison.

 Adelmo opened the envelope, which wasn't sealed. Suddenly, his mouth was dry, and his hands were shaking. Anxiety washed over him. His eyes blurred, and his breath was short. He started to hyperventilate.

“Jesus, get hold of yourself.”

He forced himself to remove the single sheet of thin parchment from the envelope.

There was a single sentence, written in that same nervous script he‟d immediately recognized as his grandfather‟s on the outside of the envelope.

It read:

For your journey.

Adelmo replaced the letter in the envelope and put it in his desk drawer.

He looked at the book for a long time.

The sudden knock on the office door startled him.

Lana poked her head in the door. “I'm going to lunch. Still want the address?”

Adelmo looked at her blankly. She smiled. On the wall next to the door, the clock read

12:47.

“Shit! The lab.”

Adelmo was shocked to realize he had been staring at the old book for two hours. He had no recollection of thinking, or any thoughts whatsoever. It was just like that morning in the attic, standing over his mother‟s trunk. It was as if everything had skipped forward, as if he'd lost time.

He jumped up and rushed past Lana, snatching the address as he brushed by her.

“Be careful,” she said.

But Adelmo was already gone.

When he got to the lab, the place was in a minor uproar. Lab techs were scurrying around, talking excitedly as they buzzed around work stations and offices.

Hanson wasn't in his office, so Adelmo sat down to wait.