Why does the investigator's caseload include missing persons the police claim never existed, and what connects his clients to the dentist's after-hours appointments? Which dental procedures require soundproofing that normal practice doesn't need, and why do both professionals keep their files in the same secured basement? What kind of evidence requires such unusual extraction methods?
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“Life is like being at the dentist. You always think that the worst is still to come, and yet it is over already.”
― Otto von Bismarck
The dusk light was fading as I entered the tiny private investigator’s office located in a run-down building. Files and papers were strewn everywhere, like the P.I. had left in a hurry.
I began sifting through the case notes, hoping to find clues as to his whereabouts. But the more I read, the more disturbing the details became. Strange symbols and phrases popped up in the marginalia, nonsensical at first but taking on an ominous tone the deeper I delved.
In the back room, I found stacks of cassette tapes and notepads filled with cryptic writings. Some seemed to document gruesome rituals, while others detailed missing persons now presumed dead. A chill went through me as I recognized some of the names.
It was then that I noticed the stains - dark reddish-brown splotches scattered about. My flashlight revealed scrapings of flesh beneath the fingernails of an untouched cup of stale coffee.
A scuttling noise came from the far corner, and I spun around to see a hulking shape emerging from the shadows. Frantic, I scrambled back down the stairs and out into the waiting dusk, the rasping laughter of the thing behind me urging me never to return to that place of dark mysteries.
