The man in the driver's seat didn't turn around. He was professional and controlled. "My name is Zack. I work for Richard Moonwell."
Called it.
"Mr. Moonwell noticed you had a conversation with his daughter today. First real conversation she's had with anyone at that school in over two years." Zack's voice carried no judgment, just facts. "That's significant."
Mark stayed quiet. Let them explain first. Never volunteer information in a negotiation. He'd learned that lesson the hard way, decades ago.
"He'd like to offer you an opportunity." Zack pulled out an envelope from the center console, handed it back without looking. "Two hundred dollars. All you have to do is continue being friendly with Becky. Talk to her. Maybe convince her to call her father once in a while. Nothing complicated."
Mark opened the envelope. Ten crisp twenties, still smelling like ink.
"That's just the start," Zack continued, eyes forward, watching the street. "Play your cards right, there's more where that came from. Mr. Moonwell wants his daughter back in his life. You seem to be someone she might actually listen to. That makes you valuable."
Two hundred bucks to be a paid informant trading trust for cash. Mark was about to laugh but held it in, face steady. This had to be a joke. And not even a good one.
"I'll think about it," Mark said, handing the envelope back to Zack.
The silence in the car stretched like taffy, becoming uncomfortable. Zack didn't take the money. Didn't even look at it.
Two hundred bucks was a fortune for any high school student. The kind of money that should have made Mark's hands shake with eagerness. Refusing it was either incredibly stupid or deeply suspicious, and Zack was paid to notice both.
Then he reached into the center console again and pulled out a second envelope.
"That's a thousand dollars." He set it on the seat next to Mark like it was a newspaper. "Don't take too long thinking about it. Mr. Moonwell is a patient man, but not that patient."
[TASK TWO: BONUS OPPORTUNITY DETECTED | Accept or Decline]
The notification appeared in Mark's vision like a test he hadn't studied for. The system always looked for shortcuts, always built events on top of events, each one leading to the next like dominoes falling in a pattern only it could see. But this felt different. This was something he just couldn't do, working for anyone.
Mark picked up the envelope. He didn't need to open it to know the money was genuine. Richard Moonwell didn't play games with fake bills. Men like him didn't need to.
"I'll think about it, but not with your money in my pocket." Mark handed the envelope back, felt Zack's surprise even though the man's face didn't change.
[BONUS DECLINED]
"Interesting choice," Zack said, finally turning slightly to look at Mark in the rearview mirror. "Most kids your age would've—"
"I'm not most kids."
"No," Zack agreed slowly. "You're definitely not." He put the car in gear, smooth and professional. "I'll drive you home."
Not a question. Not an offer. A statement of fact that told Mark everything he needed to know about how thoroughly he'd been researched.
***
Detective Lidorf's car wasn't in the driveway. Mark noticed before the Lexus had even fully pulled away. The empty space felt ominous, like a missing tooth.
"Something's not right," he muttered.
He didn't know his father well yet, but he knew enough. Detective Lidorf was dedicated, caring, the type who came home when he said he would. And he'd mentioned meeting with Ben Sentara. Digging into the business of men like Ben was how good cops ended up in bad situations.
Mark pulled out his phone, found the contact. Detective Lidorf. He hit dial.
The automated voice came back immediately: "The number you have called is not reachable."
Mark wasn't surprised. He knew how the business worked, knew how easy it was to cross a line without realizing it. Maybe that's what had happened to Detective Lidorf.
"Please... don't let it be what I think."
He scrolled through his contacts, found Uncle Terry. His finger hovered over the call button when a notification popped up on screen.
REMINDER: Tomorrow is your 18th birthday, Mark!
Right. Tomorrow he'd legally be an adult. Tomorrow he could sign contracts, open bank accounts, do everything an adult could do. Tomorrow didn't matter if his father was dead today.
He knew, with the certainty that came from seventy years of watching powerful men destroy obstacles, that Detective Lidorf was either in serious trouble or already gone. But finding answers required resources. Required money. Required following the system to places he didn't want to go.
"Alexandria Sentara," he said aloud, testing the name on his tongue.
"You seem troubled. What's wrong?" The system's voice cut through his thoughts.
"I thought you could read my mind."
"You're a fool to think that."
"But you told me you could hear my thoughts."
"No, I said I could hear what you actively think at me. There's a difference." The system actually sounded annoyed. "I'm not omniscient."
Mark pulled up Alex's number and dialed, mind already racing through what he needed to do tonight.
"Hello?" Alex's voice was barely above a whisper, background noise suggesting he was somewhere he shouldn't be taking calls.
"Alex, why did you answer in the middle of—" Another voice cut through. Male, entitled, familiar in a way that made Mark's blood boil.
Jimmy Pabebuncano. That worthless parasite who inherited everything he built.
"This is Mark," he said quickly.
"Yeah, I've got your number saved. What's up, bro?"
"I'm coming over tonight. Send me your address."
"Ah, man, I'm not home right now." Alex sounded genuinely apologetic. "But my sister's there. I can send you the location and meet you in like forty to sixty minutes?"
Perfect. Better than perfect. All Mark needed was to be alone with Alexa anyway.
"Yeah, okay. That works." He tried to sound reluctant, like this was an inconvenience.