The door opens again, and Ghost enters. "That was interesting."
"More than interesting. Rossi just confirmed these chimeras likely aren't acting naturally."
"Sherlock's writing up his report now." Ghost glances at the notebook Rossi left. "Anything useful in that?"
"I'll need time to go through it." I pick up the notebook. "But I think we just got our first real lead in this case."
I'm getting closer to understanding what happened to my father. But as Rossi's warning echoes in my mind, I can't shake the feeling that I'm also being drawn into something much larger—and much more dangerous than a simple hunt.
Back at my desk, I spread Rossi's notebook open, careful to position my monitor to block Sherlock's line of sight from across the room. The weathered leather journal is filled with meticulous handwritten notes, diagrams, and what appear to be personal observations about chimera encounters spanning almost three decades.
I focus on the notebook, flipping through pages of detailed observations. Rossi's handwriting is cramped but precise, the notes of a man who understood the value of documentation. Each entry includes dates, locations, and behavioral patterns far more detailed than anything in the official GUIDE reports.
Subject displays circadian hunting patterns. Attacks exclusively between 2-4 AM. Territorial markings extend 3.7 miles from den site. Avoids water deeper than 18 inches.
Female specimen demonstrates capacity to distinguish between armed and unarmed humans, consistently avoiding the former. Intelligence assessment: higher than previously documented.
The date is scratched out on the next one, but I don't need it. I recognize the incident immediately—the one from sixteen years ago. I lean closer, heartbeat accelerating.
First human vs. chimera death recorded in nearly a decade. Park ranger victim was rumored to have been illegally hunting. Was the death intentional? Revenge? Requires further investigation. NOT FOR OFFICIAL REPORT.
Where Rossi recorded every detail in his private notebook, I've made an art form of saying as little as possible in official documentation. My reports have just enough information to satisfy requirements while revealing nothing of my personal observations or suspicions. Nothing that might flag me for psychological evaluation or raise questions about my objectivity. Nothing that could be used against me later.
I've always kept the real details locked in my head, away from prying eyes and agency algorithms. But looking at Rossi's meticulous records, I wonder what patterns I might have missed by not writing things down, what connections might have revealed themselves if I'd kept a record like this. Then again, if I had, Sherlock would have found it by now.
"Finding anything useful?"
I slam the notebook shut, looking up to find Sherlock standing over my desk. How does he move so quietly?
"Rossi's field notes," I say casually.
Sherlock's eyes flick to the notebook, then back to me, his expression revealing nothing. But there's a glint of interest there. I have no doubt he'll be back to pry more information from me later.
"Let me know if you find anything worth reading, but Hayes wants to see us. Team meeting in five."
I nod, gathering the notebook and my tablet. "I'll be right there."
The conference room is already crowded when I arrive. Ghost stands by the window. Hayes sits at the head of the table, reviewing files on his tablet. And two unfamiliar agents occupy chairs on the far side–our temporary field replacements.
"Agent Mathieson," Hayes says without looking up. "Perfect timing. Meet Agents Williams and Reyes."
Williams is built like a tank—all muscle and military bearing, with a high-and-tight haircut and hands that look like they could crush marbles. Ex-special forces, probably. Reyes is his opposite, slim and wiry with intelligent eyes behind stylish glasses, fingers constantly moving as if typing on invisible keyboards.
"Mathieson," Williams says with a nod. His voice matches his appearance—hard, efficient.
"Heard a lot about you," Reyes adds, his tone friendlier but his eyes calculating. "Impressive record."
"Thanks." I take a seat beside Ghost, positioning myself so I can watch everyone at once. "I've been reviewing Rossi's field notes."
"And?" Hayes prompts.
I have information they need. If Hayes wants to sideline me, fine, but he can't erase what I know and that Rossi only wanted to talk to me.
"His personal notes suggest chimeras are far more intelligent than we've officially acknowledged. He also said that the two males we’re hunting currently shouldn’t be working together the way they are. He’s never seen males that could tolerate each other without fighting."
"They seemed to be tolerating each other just fine in Rossi’s place," Sherlock scoffs.
"Yeah, Rossi suspects they’re under some form of control."
