Liam was stunned by the proposal, though he kept his stone-faced composure in case it was a trap.
"Ten thousand," Knight said. "For one head—Alex Quinn's."
Mentally, Liam was spiraling. His heart pounded, thoughts tangled, adrenaline rushing. But on the surface, he was still. Muscles clenched, he fought even the smallest bead of sweat.
"A professional indeed," Knight noted with a wry smirk. "That poker face of yours is good. Very good. But I'm serious about the job."
Liam maintained his apathetic stare, unflinching. Knight didn't seem bothered—on the contrary, he looked pleased.
"Three days," he continued. "If Alex Quinn is dead by then, you'll hear from me again. Five thousand more. The first five is already waiting at your dorm. An advance."
If this was a trap—an elaborate scheme to catch him in the act—it was absurdly risky. Paying five thousand upfront? Not typical bait.
Knight rose from his chair and walked to the door. Just before leaving, he turned back.
"Oh, and if he's still alive after three days…" He tilted his head, "you'll still hear from me—but it won't be a pleasant meeting. You're free to go. Collect your advance. I'll be looking forward to your work."
The door shut gently behind him, Knight slipping back into his polished, artificial demeanor.
Liam stood as well. Knight had said he could leave—and so he did. But as he crossed the nearly empty precinct, a voice called out from behind.
"Dye."
He turned. It was Alex.
"Ask me today's question."
"Would you rather spend a night in Antarctica… or an afternoon in the Sahara?"
—
"Mom! I've got something to do—gonna skip breakfast. I'll head out on foot," Samantha called, hurriedly tying her shoes near the door.
"Where are you going?"
"A um...friend wants to meet. It's close—don't worry. I'll be back for dinner. Bye!" she blurted out in one breath, slipping out the door.
Heather frowned at her daughter's unusual behavior. It didn't sit right. Her seventeen-year-old wandering alone, agitated and evasive? She was worried.
"I'll drive you!"
"No need! I'll call an Uber!"
"Stay safe!" Heather shouted from the kitchen, but the door had already closed.
This wasn't the behavior of a grieving daughter. Heather knew that. And she feared the worst.
She sighed, set two plates of sandwiches down, and sat alone at the table, eating without appetite.
—
"Do you know Liam Dye?... Do you know Liam Dye?"
Samantha asked again and again across the university campus. But Liam, gloomy and introverted, wasn't well-known. Her search yielded little.
Then she bumped into a student wearing glasses, struggling under a thick stack of books.
"Oof!" she gasped as they both tumbled, books scattering across the ground. "Oh god, I'm so sorry—I—"
She stopped. The guy hadn't moved. Head down, body frozen.
"Hello? Are you okay?"
She looked around and saw his glasses nearby.
"Oh! Here, I found them." She picked them up and handed them to him.
His hand trembled as he took them. "Help..."
"Sorry?"
"Help me up… please…" he whispered. It was Jason.
"Oh—okay. Really sorry." She helped him up. "You alright?"
He slid his glasses on with shaky fingers and blinked as if just waking up. "I'm fine... I think." He looked down. "Oh." As if only now noticing the scattered books, he knelt down.
"No, let me. It's my fault."
"It's okay—they're mine."
They stacked them up together. Jason nodded. "Thank you."
"No, no need to thank me. I'm sorry. Actually, can I ask you something?"
"Uh… sure."
"Do you know Liam Dye?"
Jason froze. Instantly drenched in sweat.
"Why do you want to know?"
"I need to meet him."
"No, you don't." His voice was firm. Samantha was taken aback.
"You don't want to meet him," Jason said sharply, then stormed off without another word.
"…Huh?"
"Liam Dye?" came a girl's voice from her left.
"Yeah?"
"That guy you just talked to? He's jealous of Liam. Hates his guts."
"You know Liam, then?" Samantha asked, hopeful.
"Yeah, we're in the same class. Want his number?"
"That—and where he is. It'd be really helpful." Samantha's relief was obvious, though she wasn't sure what to expect anymore. Liam… didn't seem like who he used to be.
"Where he is? Probably at the closest precinct. He got arrested earlier."
Samantha was stunned again. Liam just kept finding new ways to surprise her.
"Arrested? For what?"
"No idea, girl. Still want his number?"
"…Yes. Yes, please."
—
"Game starts at night, right?"
"Around 10 PM," Liam replied.
"Meet us here at nine," Alex said, handing him a piece of paper. Felicia stood behind him, arms crossed. 'Us' clearly referred to both of them.
Liam glanced at the address. A meeting point—before the game begins.
"Thank you," he said quietly. His plan had worked. Now, real investigators were involved. Maybe justice for his roommate wasn't just a fantasy anymore.
**Ringringring.**
Liam's phone buzzed.
"Even this kid's ringtone is better," Felicia teased.
"Shut up," Alex muttered.
He stared down at the screen. No name—just numbers. Unknown caller. But Liam didn't need caller ID.
He knew who it was.