[she hands him the rest of the detergent so he can wash properly, but concentrates on sussing out what's wrong here]

They go along with the poems on the sheets. The arsonist on fabric A is the lighter, and so on. But there's no way to narrow it down. We're missing something...

[and then she remembers, the other journal she'd neglected upon Calhoun's appearance. she heads over to flip through it in the hopes it held another clue]