The good news is that the power works and you can turn on a light. All other elements of the situation are bad. The entire back half of this building is crammed floor-to-ceiling with cardboard boxes full of newspapers and town records, as well as records from a dozen nearby towns and villages: this building must serve as a central depot for all the records within fifty miles that no one wants anymore. The boxes are numbered, but not with any system you recognize.
Through a screened door you can see a box labeled "Organization notes 9/25/19." You're sure that box is a kind of card catalog, but the door is locked and the clerk doesn't have the key. She also doesn't seem to like you much.
Going through all the records until you find something on Heaney will be mind-numbing, but it's possible, especially if you're smart enough to find a pattern in the listings. You could try enlisting the clerk's help, but you'd have to be charming enough to pull her away from the true crime podcast she's listening to. Or you could, well, jimmy the door and grab the organization notes. That's probably criminal trespass, but it'd save hours of work.
I work systematically from top to bottom, looking for a pattern that will lead me to a record of Heaney's fate.
I ask the clerk for help. She must know how this place is organized.
Crime time. I work quickly and quietly to pop the lock that leads into the organization-notes room.
I'm not taking any chances: I turn into a wolf and slip into that room with the organization notes.
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