A Bad Case of Forgetfulness - Part 8a

.
Something had changed inside Ransack. The calm he had first shown immediately after his little turn was now upon him proper and he felt like a different man. All nerves about fucking up the investigation left him, and as to what any of his colleagues thought, well, it was 'fuck them' too! This was the biggest case of his career and one he could not afford to lose. And maybe he wouldn't. Just as quickly as half his mind had flushed blank a little while ago, now it was back; his head a cistern full of clean and clever police forensic knowledge. Once again he was able to look at the crime scene and see all the little clues and traces and tell-tale signs left behind by the killer. It had all returned. In an instant he knew who his colleagues were, his position, his character. He remembered his book, and the lectures he often gave on forensic policing and the importance of the secondary scene. Even small things like where to get extra evidence bags and spare gloves, or what to do with uniformed officers who lay traumatized and humming to the Gods in public, had returned. Ransack straightened himself to full authoritative height and fixed his tie. He was back! Though that's when things got really weird....