Well there's my problem. I can't outrace myself. [She leans her elbows on the table and smiles, tired and resigned. Elizabeth had thought that killing Comstock, the last one, would've freed her from the feelings of responsibility, of anger and frustration-- but she'd left Sally to the wolves so to speak, and any relief she might have felt was swallowed in nightmares of girls screaming as they burned. She could run fast, but her emotions would always hamstring her.]

[His name comes as a surprise-- she'd been half expecting him to dance around that issue for a while. But the rest of it...]

A couple of people came forward, saying we were friends. I guess I had more than that, though, if it drove me to drink. Did I tell you my father was an alcoholic? [It's like she's pointing out the weather when she says that-- obviously it's not a terrible secret or something she still struggles with, but it's an explanation. Or another piece to some puzzle if he's trying to make sense of the strange things Elizabeth says and does.]

What case was it?