Chapter 45 | The Crimson Moon Returns

The office of the other female reporter, Maya, was not far from the deceased Donnie's. In the newspaper agency's records, both of them were currently listed as missing.

Only now did Lynch learn that being listed as missing was quite common in this era, especially for investigative reporters.

In an age without telegraphs or telephones, messages relied entirely on letters. Once an in-depth investigation began and required going undercover, a reporter would often go “missing” until the investigation concluded and they resurfaced.

That was why the few colleagues outside city hall hadn't cared in the slightest that the two had been missing for five days, nor had Donald mentioned Maya's disappearance to Walker from the Rangers.

Because no one had thought anything of it.

It was only when Walker arrived with news of Donnie's death that Donald had cooperated with the authorities to unlock Donnie's office and provided all the relevant information on him.

“So what story was Donnie investigating before he went missing?”

While waiting for Donald's staff to fetch the keys, Officer Natalie couldn't resist pressing for details, trying to salvage what they could.

“Donnie wasn't actually missing.”

“Hmm?” Lynch furrowed his brow.

“He showed up just a few days ago, looking a bit dazed, telling me he had some family matters to attend to and needed a few days off. I've no idea what 'family matters' a bachelor could have, but I approved it nonetheless.”

“Do you remember the exact date?”

“May 13th. I remember it vividly. He came by specifically to review a manuscript on the Bester Tunnel. It's standard procedure.”

He had guessed right.

Yet both of their hearts tightened at the same time. They realized they had touched the core of an uncanny death incident. In the profound darkness, an invisible behemoth seemed to lurk, and the so-called core they had brushed against was merely the tip of its iceberg.

Lynch exhaled a soft, chilly breath and pressed on, “Was it a manuscript he wrote?”

“No, it was actually Maya's manuscript. Maya is genuinely missing—she reported to me that she was going to keep tracking the tunnel incident. But she and Donnie occasionally partnered up on investigations and were quite close, often helping each other review manuscripts.”

So Maya was the key figure, and Donnie was merely caught up in it?

Lynch couldn't say for sure right now, but there was one thing he was certain of.

There was a good reason the Rangers were called salary-stealing thieves. What on earth had they hauled back in those crates?

“Did you tell Walker and his people any of this?”

“No. At the time, I thought that was all Maya's business and had nothing to do with Donnie. Uh, should I keep this a secret from those officers later? After all, your relationship seems... well.”

Officer Natalie wore a dark expression and hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. “Tell them the truth. I have no interest in placing obstacles in their path—that will only steer the situation toward the most dangerous outcome.”

“Understood. Though if they don't come back to follow up, I'm under no obligation to knock on their door and volunteer it.”

Editor-in-Chief Donald gave a small smile and unlocked Maya's office for them. Lynch's hand was already resting on the pistol inside his coat, while Officer Natalie stood before him, ready to charge into the office at a moment's notice.

The moment the door opened and the scene inside came into view, their hearts sank instantly.

The inside looked like a disaster zone.

Aside from the bookshelves, desk, and chairs, the room was crammed with a massive volume of papers and documents. Several stacks taller than a person leaned against the walls, and large bundles of paper were piled in every corner, looking as though a hurricane had just torn through.

Had someone beaten them to this place as well?

But when the pair looked at Donald, the editor-in-chief was completely unfazed. Instead, he smiled at them. “No need to be alarmed. Maya Sers has rather particular work habits. We're all used to it.”

Huh?

Lynch was merely astonished, while Natalie, staring at the roomful of materials, foresaw the daunting workload ahead. She could only let out a deep sigh and step into the office first.

Yet the instant she crossed the threshold, her hand went straight to her sword hilt.

A faint, putrid stench washed over them.

The smell was not particularly overpowering, yet it hovered persistently in the room, refusing to dissipate.

“Don't come in yet.”

The lady officer shifted half a step sideways to shield Lynch. She surveyed the room while twitching her nose, only clearing the way after a moment.

“The windows aren't open and there's no ventilation. If there were a corpse in here—even of a mouse—the smell wouldn't be this faint. It feels more like...”

As she searched for the words, Lynch asked, “The scent lingered, but the source has left?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

The lady officer asked Editor-in-Chief Donald, who had long since wanted to leave, to step out and remain within the agency in case further questioning was needed. Only then did she whisper, “Any reaction from mystery relics?”

“None. Not even any noticeable mysterious filth.”

Lynch had already made a circuit around the room. His only impression was—what a mess.

“The workload is massive. Do we need to inspect everything, Lynch?”

“Hard to say. Let me take a look first.”

Lynch grabbed the documents on the desk, skimming through them with narrowed eyes in thought. He then pulled open the drawer, drew out the papers inside, and read through them.

Sitting on the edge of the desk, the lady officer rested her chin in her hand, watching Lynch frown in deep thought. It was only when Lynch suddenly looked up that she hastily averted her gaze. “What is it?”

“There's a problem with these documents.”

Lynch didn't notice her momentary distraction. He tossed the papers aside after a few glances, strode over to the bookcase, pulled open the doors, and rifled through it. Only then did he return behind the desk, staring at the items on it in prolonged silence.

Curious, the lady officer picked up several handwritten documents and examined them carefully, but in the end shook her head.

Lynch prompted her, “There's nothing about the Bester Tunnel.”

“Hmm?”

Lynch gestured around the room. “This Ms. Maya's work habits are actually quite systematic. Her daily work notes were casually stacked in piles, with newer ones placed on top every few days. After browsing a few sheets just now, I'm fairly certain that's how she operated.”

Officer Natalie nodded, only to hear Lynch continue swiftly, “Donald mentioned earlier that Ms. Maya's last assignment was the Bester Tunnel incident. Given her habits, the records of that work should be right on the top layers. But right now, there are none—not a single sheet.”

“Phew, you're right. So when she left on May 11th, she took all the related documents with her?”

“It's also possible someone slipped into her office afterward and took or destroyed everything. Let me see...”

As he spoke, Lynch went over to the door to inspect the padlock.

There were no signs of forced entry, though spare keys were poorly managed here and anyone could obtain one, so that didn't prove much.

While pondering, Lynch turned around and found the lady officer leaning over the chair he had just sat on, sniffing deeply with flared nostrils.

“Hmm? How about I find an article of Ms. Maya's clothing for you to sniff first before you search?”

How dare you treat me like a hound! The lady officer shot Lynch a fierce glare, noting this score in her mental ledger. She crooked her finger and pointed at the chair. “When you walked past me just now, the scent felt off. There was a faint whiff of putrid rot—very subtle, but definitely there. You most likely picked it up while sitting here.”

Lynch sniffed his sleeve; he couldn't detect anything himself.

“Rot is an easily recognizable odor and clings stubbornly to things, easily transferring onto a person. But since the scent in here was already faint, if it rubbed off on you, it would be hard to notice without a keen nose. Why don't you try smelling the documents she handled first?”

This woman actually knows how to make a joke? And she holds a grudge so easily—life with her is going to be rough. Lynch muttered inwardly as he leaned toward the chair. The two crouched by the chair like a pair of creeps, sniffing furiously.

There was indeed a faint odor on the chair. Once distinguished, it felt quite pungent. The two decided to crawl through the office separately, sniffing every corner.

“Something's off.”

After a full circuit, they circled back to the chair, where the odor remained strongest. But this time, due to their posture, they realized the strongest concentration of the stench didn't come from the chair itself, but beneath it—or rather, from the space under the desk.

There was nothing there, yet moving the chair aside made the odor noticeably thicker.

Had someone crawled inside and stayed for a while?

After a moment of thought, Lynch bent down and crawled in. Officer Natalie gave him a cautious pull before letting go, her hand resting on her sword hilt as she braced for combat.

The space below was cramped, just enough for a person to curl up hugging their knees. Lynch assumed the same posture, inspecting the narrow space meticulously.

Everything appeared normal on the surface, but when Officer Natalie pulled open the drawer under his direction, the reverse side of the desk board previously obstructed by the drawer was exposed.

A slip of paper was pinned to the underside of the desk board. Unless someone crawled inside, it was impossible to spot from any angle.

This is it. Jack pot.

Suppressing his nervous excitement, Lynch plucked the note and crawled out. Exchanging a glance with the lady officer, their heads drew close together as they held their breath and unfolded the paper.

Save me, Donnie.

The handwriting was wildly chaotic, with certain strokes gouging straight through the paper, radiating an aura of dread and madness.

Following it was a long, equally disordered string of numbers and letters, devoid of any discernable pattern.

“Hiss, is this... left by Maya? Why would she hide a note here?”

“It seems so,” Lynch said, frowning. “I'm afraid she already knew she was entangled in something extremely dangerous, so she went into hiding and took all her records with her. Judging by the handwriting, her mental state was probably deteriorating. Wait...”

“Hmm?”

“She left a note for Donnie here, but Donnie would never have seen it—unless...”

Officer Natalie's eyes lit up. “Unless this was their agreed method of communication—a secret message in times of danger.”

Before the words finished echoing, both of them dashed out the door simultaneously. If this was an agreed-upon method, and there was a message under Maya's desk, what about Donnie's?