"Loomis, on a leg like that you might want to take a seat." Sheriff Brackett extended a cup of coffee. "Here."
The doctor accepted it and placed it on the windowsill as he took a seat on the bench.
"You made a good call," Bracket said. "They found...evidence of — well, the crime scene is being investigated at this moment."
"An entire staff…" Dr. Loomis whispered.
Sheriff Brackett felt sorry for the old man.
"I...know what I said last year was...uncalled for. But, this, at least, isn't your fault."
Dr. Loomis held his forehead in one hand. "Do you know what they found?"
"Alot. But, I can tell you what they didn't find…"
He watched Bracket with anticipation.
"They didn't find Adam Doe or Michael Myers," Bracket came clean, "But, there are indications that they were there. Where they might be now is a mystery we'll get to the bottom of soon enough."
Dr. Loomis released an exasperated sigh that sounded much like how Leigh Brackett felt earlier this morning.
"Do you know why he'd go back?" The sheriff asked.
"I don't have any answers, Leigh. I'm incapable of providing any."
"You should really get some rest at one of the motels. C'mon. I'll take you back to the station."
"Why there? I thought..." Dr. Loomis trailed off confusedly. The events must've been wearing down on him as they wore down on the rest of the people involved these last disastrous few days.
"You'll need your car won't you?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Take this." Bracket passed him a folded piece of paper. "The drive will be an hour and a half. I'll be there at noon. I suggest getting as much sleep as possible."
Warily unfolding it, Dr. Loomis noted the address and phone number and a few other miscellaneous scribbles of information. He looked up at the sheriff.
"What is this?"
"The only person connected to all of this…"
"And who is that?"
But, Brackett had left him to his own devices.
Dr. Loomis hadn't been able to guess, and it was on his mind all the way to the motel. Even in sleep, a couple hours of respite, he could not place a face to the note gifted by his friend, or at least that is what he dared to call him in such an odd time like this. And it wasn't until he'd made it to Decatur Memorial Hospital, on the first floor of the emergency wing, entering the room, door guarded by a police officer, did he come across the patient inside. Despondent and eerily quiet, having stared a proverbial hole into her thigh that was wrapped for the gunshot hole that was literally there, Carmen Doe stared back at Dr. Loomis.