Page 133 of The Fractured

A text from Mark sat on my lock screen like a blaring amber alert.

Mark: Meet me at my office ASAP.

“Everything okay?” I heard.

I pulled my eyes from the screen to Lily.

She was smiling at first until she got a glimpse of the name on my screen. “What does he want?”

I inhaled and pocketed my phone. “It’s probably for more information or somethin’.”

I stood and kissed her on the forehead, lingering for a second.

“What about the game?” Seb asked, gesturing to the spare controller that was meant to be mine.

“Start without me.”

He gasped, feigning shock. “Blasphemy! You’re the Luigi to my Mario.”

“Yeah, well, this Luigi has a detective to talk to.”

Seb clicked his tongue in disappointment and looked at Lily. “Your dad is a killjoy. No offense.”

“None taken.” Lily masked her concern with a small smile at me. “Come back, okay?”

“Of course. I’ve gotta maintain my winnin’ streak,” I winked, gesturing to the game.

“We’re reaching the end of our investigations.” Mark hit me with the words the second we sat down in his office. He looked as reluctant to say them as I was to accept them. “I thought I’d let you know in advance.”

“Right…” I swallowed the information like it was a bitter pill. “When do you plan to start makin’ arrests?”

“A little over a week from now.”

That was the second blow. It hollowed out my stomach with a sharp slice of reality. Everything was happening so fast.

I looked down, nodding. “Can I let Lily know?”

“Something tells me you will, regardless of what I say.” Mark cleared his throat. “Don’t forget, your cooperation with the investigation won’t go unnoticed. It’ll reduce the sentence you get.”

“Yeah, but my criminal record won’t do me any favors.” I huffed a dry laugh. “I probably shoulda thought of that back when I was stealin’ cars—”

A knock on the door cut me off, and Mark sat back in his seat, exhaling. “Come in.”

It was a young delivery guy with poxy skin and a nervous twitch.

I lowered my head, mostly to mind my own business, as he carried a small box to Mark’s desk. But I couldn’t help but notice he seemed to watch me more than necessary.

“Little late to be doing delivery runs, isn’t it?” Mark asked, taking a box cutter from his desk drawer and sliding the box closer to himself.

The guy shrugged. “Fell beside my seat.”

Usually, a normal person would take the end of that sentence as their cue to leave, but this driver hesitated. Which put me on guard.

My attention went back to the box. “Maybe open that tomorrow. Outside.”

Mark half smiled, cutting the tape. “It’s stationary.”

The driver left right before Mark flipped the box open.