So the next day we take a little trip to the Shadow Valley Historical Society, where a bespectacled wisp of a man says the bullet -- which he's been told was found in a backyard -- is rather common. Jane looks at the photos of soldiers behind him and asks how one would go about identifying someone in them. "Name," says the guy. "They're fairly well-archived." Kind of an odd answer, since it sounds like she's asking how they find out the name of somebody in a photo, and Keel points out that the name is what they're after. Skeet finally gets around to asking if a button could help identify a soldier. That it could, says the guy, who takes them to a display case filled with them, saying that silver buttons indicate an officer, while common soldiers wore brass ones. Skeet says it was a brass button of a woman holding a sword, which the guy says would have meant the soldier was an infantryman from Virginia. He finds one and shows it to Skeet, while rambling on about the 2nd Battalion, which once attempted a flanking maneuver in the hills near here. He rummages through some files until he pulls out a folder with a photograph of the battalion, as well as one taken after the Battle of Shadow Ridge, which Skeet says he's never heard of. The historian says that's because it was a minor skirmish over a forgotten ridge that had no bearing on the outcome of the war. Skeet sees Henry in the photograph, and looks at another photo the historian hands to him, that of a dead Henry lying on the ground. "There were no survivors," says the historian. Skeet sees the name on the photograph: Henry Tucker.
Back in the Civil War, Henry's writing another whiny letter to his wife, only now he's hopeful for word soon, since he believes God is giving him signs, first in the "shining halo" that God set forth in the sky, which preceded the arrival of an angel in his "strange clothing." In a nice little melding, the voice-over of Henry narrating his letter dissolves into Skeet reading aloud from Henry's journal, archived on microfiche. Henry speaks of strange visions and signs that have convinced him there are things in this world he that "cannot be weighed on a scale, that the smartest of doctors cannot know with certitude." Jane, whose chop-chop attitude towards this whole business is kind of entertaining, wants to know what's on the next page.
And we're back at the Circle Mart, where Skeet is holding a printout of the journal's page -- it's a sketch of the glowing hemorrhoid pillow, and the SQ crew finally figures out that not only can they see into Henry's world, but he can see into theirs, which given Keel's convoluted explanation I would have thought should have been obvious. And speaking of obvious, Skeet goes on to read a passage in which Henry says he's willing to die for his country, but since he'll die now knowing the health of his wife and baby, his spirit will never rest. Keel grabs the page, and after about five hours finally says, "That's what he needs to know," and I guess that's why Keel's the boss. "No one should have to die like that," says Skeet, which kind of begs the question of whether it's okay for the soldier to die at all, whether he knows how his wife and kid are doing or not, but let's not get into that right now. And I guess some things aren't obvious enough for Keel; Skeet starts stomping away, and Keel asks where he's going. "I'm going to find out what's up with Henry Tucker's wife and kid! Duh!" says Skeet, only that's not exactly verbatim. "And then what?" asks Jane. "I'm going to tell him," says Skeet. Again, the "duh" is implied.