Agent Carlisle, or whoever the fuck he really was, stood just inside the halo of light around my table… staring straight at me. There was genuine surprise on his face, not the polite kind you fake when you recognize someone in public, but the real thing. Like he hadn’t expected me to see this version of him, he hadn’t followed me… he wasn’t prepared.

  “Seth,” he said, his voice calm but edged with something curious. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so fast.”

  He took a couple of steps closer and reached for the empty chair across from me, pulling it out without waiting for an answer. He was good… quick to recover.

  “Yeah… me neither,” I said, wondering how bad it would look that right after our interview, I went out drinking.

  The words came out before I’d decided to say them. Truth was, I didn’t know what to say or do either. I was still processing the interview, still replaying the strange questions he’d asked Ben and me. Questions that had nothing to do with procedural police work and everything to do with things more geared to the unexplainable; to the things I started to feel more suspicious of after Sam’s disappearance. Add a few beers on top of that, and I was completely unprepared to deal with him again.

  He paused, one hand resting on the back of the chair. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, already halfway committed to sitting.

  I nodded my head, more out of reflex than permission.

  Carlisle sat down and scooted in closer, crossing his arms as he leaned back, settling in like this was exactly where he meant to be. His eyes never left mine, not scanning the room, not checking exits… just watching me. Studying me.

  I could feel it then, that same itch I’d felt at the end of the interview. Whatever this conversation was going to be, it wasn’t going to be anything I expected from a government authority. I was starting to think this “Agent” Carlisle wasn’t going to be anything I expected either.

  I took another pull from the beer, longer this time, and let the bitterness sit on my tongue. I wanted the alcohol to do what it was supposed to… to loosen the anxious knot in my chest. I was trying to rid myself of the instinct screaming at me that this wasn’t what it seemed. I had to trust the authorities… right? Even if they came across a little weird… Maybe he had a reason to come up with weird questions like that.

  “So,” I said finally, setting the bottle down a little harder than I meant to. “Those questions you asked back there… in the interview...” I couldn’t hold it back and asked directly before he took over the conversation.

  Carlisle didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even blink. He just waited.

  “The smells,” I continued, feeling my heartbeat creep into my throat. “Stuff moving in the shadows. That feeling like someone… or something, was there.” I let out a short, humorless breath. “That doesn’t exactly feel like standard federal agent material. Felt more like something out of an old ’80s creature feature.”

  Carlisle nodded with a wry smile. “Fog machine, synth soundtrack, monster just out of frame…” he chuckled at his own words. “You’re right,” Carlisle said calmly. “It’s not standard.”

  I frowned. “Then why ask it?”

  He leaned forward now, forearms resting on the table, lowering his voice even though the bar noise easily swallowed it. “Because I don’t track crimes, Seth. Not the way you think.”

  My stomach tightened, feeling the inference on the way he said ‘think,’ like he knew exactly what he had led me to believe.

  “I track… oddities,” he went on. “Anomalies. Patterns that don’t fit cleanly into police reports or witness statements. I track down things that can’t be explained to the general public… even if they notice things; when people start noticing the same wrong details, specific smells, movement where nothing should be moving, people that shouldn’t be...”

  I stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or stand up and walk out. He felt like he was trying to present himself as some supernatural Sherlock Holmes.

  “…and places that are repeatedly touched by tragedy.” The bar seemed to dim around us as he continued. “Like the incident five years ago,” Carlisle said, his tone unchanged. “In the woods behind your brother’s house.”

  My breath caught… and I wasn’t breathing. I wasn’t scared or anything… I was just waiting for what he’d say next… my brain shellshocked from his quick statement that intimately linked his knowledge to me in an unseen way.

  “When your brother,” he continued evenly, “Sam, went missing.”

  The name hit me like a physical blow. I felt my teeth clench down as I breathed in and out through my nose. I felt my heart beating in my throat as my adrenaline started pumping for some unknown reason. I said unknown, but I knew. It was because this man, whoever he was, knew things. Everything inside me locked up. My fingers curled tight around the bottle, knuckles whitening as the room seemed to pull away at the edges. The hum of the bar faded, replaced by the sudden rush of blood in my ears. My tunnel vision focused on blocking out everything else and only focusing on his words leaving his mouth.

  The silence stretched just long enough to become a moment of uncertainty for both of us. I think he was watching me to see what my reaction would be. I was waiting for him to continue. I didn’t want to push too hard, too fast, and scare him away.

  But I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward suddenly, the chair legs scraping softly against the floor as adrenaline shoved the alcohol out of the way. “How do you know about that?” I snapped. My voice came out low, tight but controlled, but barely.

  Carlisle didn’t flinch, but I could tell he was working out exactly what he would say without revealing too much. I could see it… he knew something.

  “If the government knows something about what happened to Sam,” I pressed, heat creeping up my neck now, “then why the hell wasn’t anyone knocking on our door to tell us? Why did everyone just say ‘animal attack’… but never commit to what it was? No one could give definitive answers… no experts could say what slaughtered the deer in the shed. No local predators fit the descriptions based on the damage to the deer… not fully. Then it all just… stopped? Search teams pull out, paperwork gets signed and filed, and everyone pretends my brother’s case is closed?”

  A few heads turned in our direction at the increasing volume of my voice. I didn’t care.

  Carlisle lifted one hand slightly, not in surrender… more like a steadying gesture. He wanted to keep talking, but he needed me to calm myself.

  “It isn’t the government’s fault, Seth…” he couldn’t finish before I cut him off.

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  “THAT’S A BULLSHIT ANSWER!” I seethed between my teeth.

  “Most honest ones are,” he replied calmly, not rising to my anger. He leaned back again, relaxed, like we were talking about the weather. He was giving me a moment to calm down.

  I took a few breaths, then a few drinks of the beer I had left. I could still feel the thundering heartbeats pounding in my ears, but the tunnel vision was clearing.

  Carlisle started again, but slower and quieter.

  “When most people look at the truth of this world, they look away. Real answers are hard… and the world keeps spinning. For police everywhere… more cases roll in, they always do, and they have to set priorities. It’s easier to put a label on something unexplainable so they can sleep at night after they’ve moved on.” Carlisle gave me an unfortunate smile, like he was telling a kid that Santa Claus wasn’t real. “What happened to your brother isn’t unique. It feels that way because it happened to you, but there are towns like this all over the world. Small places where things slip through. Where families notice the same wrong details you described in that interview: smells, feelings, a presence… maybe even a person… and then a tragedy strikes, and someone they love is gone forever.”

  My jaw clenched. “You’re saying this like it’s normal… like I should just accept what happened.”

  “I’m saying it’s consistent. I’m saying that it is proof that there is something else out there that most people don’t realize. A whole other side to what you think life is…”

  Those words landed heavier than anything else he’d said. It was confirmation.

  Carlisle met my stare, eyes steady, unblinking. “Your town isn’t special because something bad happened here. I’m saying that enough has happened here that now you are beginning to see something… even when others don’t want to look.”

  A cold ripple slid down my spine. I thought of everyone else… Mom, Dad, Vicky, and all of our family. It was dead on. Carlisle hit the nail on the head… no one wanted to look into the things I wanted to look into anymore. Everyone wanted to move on.

  “I can let you in on it,” he continued, surprising me out of my thoughts. “Not everything… not at first… but enough. Enough to understand what kind of world you’re actually living in; why people like me exist, what I am… and what I do, and why your brother’s disappearance never sat right with you.”

  He paused, studying me now in a way that felt uncomfortably precise. I stared back, realizing that he was absolutely serious. There wasn’t a hint of deception in his voice.

  “But once you know,” he added quietly, “you don’t get to unknow it. Once you look behind the curtain and into the shadows… you’ll never be able to look away. It’ll be everywhere.”

  My hand shook as I lifted the beer again. I took a drink even though it tasted wrong now, flat and sour. I was buzzed enough to feel bold, scared enough to hesitate, and sober enough to know there was no rejecting this offer.

  Truth had weight, and I could feel it pressing down on the table between us. I stared at Carlisle, at the calm certainty in his face, and said nothing. I exhaled through my nose and dragged a hand down my face, trying to steady the buzz in my head long enough to keep my thoughts straight.

  My first thought pressed out of my mouth in a question that I still couldn’t understand. “What government agency are you actually with…”

  Carlisle didn’t answer right away. He just watched me, like he was weighing whether I was ready for whatever came next.

  “You don’t talk like a fed. You don’t act like one either. No threats, no pressure. You’re not trying to scare me into cooperating just to get a few more minute details.” I shook my head. “You sound like someone who already knows how this ends.”

  “That’s because I do,” he said.

  Before I could respond, something in the room shifted.

  It wasn’t loud, no raised voices, no sudden movements, but I felt it all the same. I glanced toward the bar and saw them clearly now: the big red-haired man and the dark-haired woman were already there, seated at a table near the back. They must’ve moved while I was so focused on this conversation. But I could see them both now, and they could see us.

  The redhead’s massive frame looked out of place in the small chair, his arms crossed thick over his chest. The woman sat rigid, eyes sharp, posture coiled like a spring ready to move at a moment's notice. They were watching us.

  Then, almost in unison, they stood. Chairs scraped softly against the floor as they rose, slow and deliberate, like predators that had just decided they were done waiting. A few patrons glanced their way and immediately looked back down at their drinks.

  My throat tightened as I followed their gaze back to Carlisle. He was already looking at them. Carlisle turned slightly in his chair and lifted one hand, making a small, controlled motion; two fingers, angled down, then subtly toward the floor. They knew each other.

  The red-haired man’s jaw flexed, understanding flashing across his face, but the woman caught his eye and gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. After a moment, they sat back down, eyes still hard but no longer advancing toward us.

  It was like they’d just been told to sit back down and wait.

  I swallowed and leaned closer to the table. “You know them.”

  “Yes,” Carlisle said.

  “They work for you or something?” I asked, but immediately knew that couldn’t be right. As commanding a presence as I’m sure Carlisle could have, if he turned it on, there was no way that tall woman could ever be under his control or authority. She looked… I don’t know… wild…

  He shook his head. “No. They were about to make introductions… but we’re not there yet.”

  That didn’t make me feel better. Who were those people to him… and why did they want to meet me?

  I stared at him, pulse thudding. “So, stop bullshitting me. Who are you?”

  Carlisle held my gaze, and for the first time since he’d sat down, the lightness drained from his face. He was dead serious.

  “I’m not with the government, Seth,” he said. “My name isn’t Carlisle either. It’s Carter… Carter Chasse.”

  The words landed heavy and final.

  “I’m a civilian,” he continued. “No badge. No authority. Just experience.” He glanced briefly toward the back of the bar, then back to me. “I hunt things most people don’t believe exist. Things that leave patterns behind. Things we can track… identifiers we can use to figure out what our prey is.”

  My forehead wrinkled, “Your prey?”

  “Things like what you found… what made that void beneath the construction site,” he said quietly. “Things that go bump in the night. The kind of shit people don’t want to admit exists. The kinds of things that took your brother… Sam.” His face twisted a little at the last part.

  I froze again. The bar noise blurred, my grip tightening on the edge of the table and my beer again as his words settled into something unshakable. This was it… the path to the truth. I needed to know.

  “Sam didn’t just disappear, Seth,” Carlisle said. “He… encountered something… something from this dark side of the world you’re starting to see hints of.”

  “What the fuck do you know!” I barked loud enough for everyone in the bar to hear.

  The anger swelled in me so fast it even surprised me. How could this man know something about my brother that I didn’t? I needed to know… I HAD to know!

  Carter looked over his shoulder cautiously as if anticipating something. He mouthed something over his shoulder so quietly that I almost couldn’t hear it.

  “It’s okay, just let me talk to him,” Carter whispered to no one. It was like he was talking to a ghost, or into an earpiece or something.

  Then Carter turned back to face me, and his face held a disarming look. He didn’t look like a threat or an adversary in that moment, more like a friend trying to pass some bad news.

  “I don't know everything, Seth, but I do know things that can help you understand. Things about this world… the dark side that very few actually get a glimpse of… things about your brother.”

  I stared at him for just a few moments as I tried to process what he was saying. It was like he was saying out loud everything I had been thinking for the last five years. That there was something behind the shadows. Something… unnatural had taken Sam… and all the men from our construction crew.

  “If there is anything… anyone that can help me figure out what happened to my brother… I have to know,” I choked back emotion that slid forward. “I need to understand.”

  Carter nodded in a deep understanding that didn’t make sense to me yet. It was like all this was familiar to him… like he’d done this before with another. Or maybe even multiple people.

  “Then, how about we make a change in scenery. We can talk… just not here.” Carter stood, and the wooden chair slid back across the old, sticky floor. “Take a ride with me…” Carter offered as he motioned toward the door.

  I was hesitant, especially after he had obviously been talking to someone over his shoulder that I couldn’t see. It didn’t make any sense, but I had to know what he knew. Plus, there were those two in the back of the bar… would they come? My thoughts ran wild.

  What am I doing? I don’t even know these people… and they’re pretending to be some kind of law enforcement…

  I didn’t say anything, I just got up, tossed a twenty on the table, and I followed him out the door.