Detective Carter's Investigation — Late Night at the Office
The rain lashed against the courthouse windows, tracing cold rivulets down the glass.
Inside the dimly lit precinct office, Detective James Carter sat hunched at his cluttered desk, the soft hum of the overhead fluorescent light blending with the low murmur of late-night radio static.
The atmosphere was thick with tension, a palpable weight that seemed to press down on him as he sifted through the chaos of paperwork.
Stacks of files lay splayed before him, but the one that caught his attention bore the name "Pierce, Eleanor." He rubbed his tired eyes, feeling the strain of sleepless nights, and flicked through the reports: property transactions, unexplained financial transfers, and unsettling noise complaints bordering on occult activity near the Pierce estate.
Each page turned felt like a step deeper into a labyrinth of secrets.
Something didn't add up.
His fingers paused over a file marked "Unexplained Disappearances & Occult Links – Regional Cases."
One report detailed a recent spike in reports near Haul Academy—ritualistic vandalism, animal attacks, and a kidnapping traced to the occultic group his daughter Rossie had warned about.
The words danced in his mind, igniting a flicker of dread.
The case notes mentioned Mrs. Pierce's frequent, late-night meetings in town—supposedly charity work, but with odd visitors and whispered conversations in shadowed cafes. The more he read, the more he felt the gnawing sensation of a storm brewing just out of sight.
James set down the file with a determined sigh and dialed a secure line tying him to a local informant. The line crackled, then a gruff voice answered, "Pierce? Yeah, she's not as innocent as her charity veneer makes her look.
Little too cozy with the wrong crowd, if you catch my drift. Occult rumors?
Those aren't just schoolyard stories."
He hung up and lit a cigarette, the thin smoke curling upward, filling the room with a tension that matched his growing unease.
His daughter was entangled in something much darker than teenage heartbreak.
The name "Mia" and "Tom" had already surfaced in his investigations—dangerous players connected to Pierce's influence. But unknowing to Carter yet who they really are.
If Mrs. Pierce was shielding them, she was playing a deadly game.
Detective Carter looked at a worn photograph tucked in the corner of his desk: Rossie, smiling under the moonlight with a bracelet gleaming faintly on her wrist.
The image felt like a tether to a world he desperately wanted to protect her from, but the shadows were closing in.
He opened his laptop and began cross-referencing addresses, noting a recent unexplained visit by Mrs. Pierce to an abandoned property—the old animal zoo near the cedar roots, where his daughter's friends were rumored to have tracked Michael.
The thought sent a chill down his spine.
What had they stumbled into?
James whispered to himself, "This isn't just about one girl's secrets anymore.
It's the key to stopping what's coming." Just then, his phone buzzed—Rossie's name flashing on the screen. He answered, voice steady despite the storm raging outside.
"Dad, we found something… something tied to Michael, the occult, and a place called the 'Root of Cedar.'" and an ancient power that posses Michael.....named "mistura".
Her voice trembled, and he could hear the fear lurking beneath her words.
James leaned back, eyes sharp. The case he thought he was chasing had only just begun.
Detective Carter's pen paused mid-note as the door to his office creaked. Officer Marston slipped in, holding a ziplock bag with a slim, battered book inside—its cracked black cover scrawled with frantic, looping script. The sight of it sent a jolt of apprehension through him.
"Sorry to interrupt, sir," Marston said quietly.
"We found this yesterday when we processed the scene at Michael's compound.
Thought you'd want to see it yourself. Honestly,"—he shook his head—"it's the weirdest thing.
Pages are filled with strange symbols. No one can make sense of it."
Carter's tired eyes sharpened. He took the bag, glancing over the messy runes and diagrams that crawled across every page.
"Where exactly did you find this?"
"In Michael's bedroom. Looked like he'd been poring over it—pages were dog-eared.
There was some… other stuff too. More blood in the garden, but no sign of the kid. And, uh, there were some scorched marks on the floor we can't explain."
Carter's thoughts raced. Mistura—the word flickered in his mind, dredged up from the occult files Rossie had begged him to believe.
The battered little book radiated dread, as if it pulsed with a memory of the chaos Michael left behind.
"Good work, Marston. Make sure only you and I handle this. And if anyone else asks, tell them it's an old diary." Carter's voice was low, urgent, a command that felt like a lifeline in the rising tide of uncertainty.
After Marston left, Carter flipped the book open, feeling as if the room's air had grown heavier.
The symbols swam before his eyes, each one a whisper of danger, a warning. He would need Rossie's help, and perhaps… the Moonlight Gardener's, if everything his daughter had said was true.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine; he had heard the rumors, tales of a figure who walked the line between light and dark, a guardian of secrets best left buried.
He picked up his phone and dialed her—knowing, for the first time, that the mysteries threatening Haul Academy weren't just children's games after all.
As the phone rang, he felt the weight of the world pressing down on him, the storm outside echoing the turmoil within.
"Dad?" Rossie's voice was shaky, but there was resolve beneath it.
" we found something you need to see"
"It's worse than we thought."
James's heart raced. "I'll be there. Stay safe."
As he hung up, the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, the air thick with foreboding. He grabbed his coat, the battered book clutched tightly in his hand.
The night was far from over, and the secrets of the Root of Cedar awaited him, dark and twisted, like the storm that raged outside.