In his notebook, Grimoire began connecting stray thoughts. He realized the "beast" was likely a person in a costume, but the motive ran deeper—tied to a secret hunting society Remington belonged to.
The air in the marshes was thick enough to chew. Detective Grimoire adjusted his collar, the humidity already wilting his sharp detective's instincts. He had been called to a remote tourist attraction deep in the wetlands to investigate the impossible: the murder of , the attraction's owner. In his notebook, Grimoire began connecting stray thoughts
Grimoire wasn't buying the "monster" theory. He stepped into the crime scene, his boots squelching in the mud. He ignored the strange green slime near the body and focused on the facts: Detective Grimoire adjusted his collar, the humidity already
Seven people were on-site the night of the murder, each with a reason to want Remington out of the picture. He stepped into the crime scene, his boots