makeshift command center had fallen silent, with the bulk of its operatives managing targets in the field. The task force had plenty of leads, perhaps too many. But that was a better problem than having too few.

Marcus Rodgers leaned back in his chair, tilting against an unseen axis. A mug of cooling coffee rested at his right hand, the only analog motivator in a room full of tech. More than just a stimulating drink, the coffee provided a focal point for his thoughts.

Something about the conversation he'd had with Captain Morrison and Miss Kelekio had been bothering him for hours. He could not quite pinpoint what it was. The words they had each spoken kept running through his mind, like sifting dirt for gold.

They are being decent paranormal role models. Morrison had said that. Why had...

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