Page 24 of Midnight Lessons

I grit my teeth, bracing a hand against the counter. “What have you got? Give me something.”

“I’m getting closer, but they know a thing or two about covering their tracks. I’ve traced the bettingpool back through a couple of IP addresses, but they’re using VPNs, bouncing the signal off random servers to mask their location. One minute, it looks like they’re in Ohio, the next, it’s Beijing.” He pauses, and I hear the faint clacking of a keyboard in the background. “The betting platform itself is a custom-built subforum nested within a regular social media site—basically, it’s hidden within a hidden page. It’s not visible unless you have a direct link. Even then, you need a login and access key.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face. “So what does that mean?”

“It means they’re not an idiot goofing off on the internet. Whoever set this up is methodical. They know enough to avoid basic tracking techniques, which tells me they have at least a working knowledge of cybersecurity.”

“Is there anything you can do?” I ask, frustration simmering beneath my skin.

“I’m not completely in the dark,” Mark assures me. “I’ve been cross-referencing timestamps on their posts, tracking patterns, seeing when most of theactivity spikes. There’s a narrow window of time when the highest volume of bets gets placed—typically between 8 and 11 p.m. on weeknights, which suggests whoever’s running this is local and has a regular day job.”

“Okay, that narrows it down. What else?”

“Then there’s the language,” Mark continues. “I ran some analyses on the phrasing in their posts—there’s a unique use of slang and abbreviations common in this area, probably someone born and raised in Midnight Falls. But the kicker is that many of the comments use specific terminology for sports betting, not something your average person would know. Whoever this is, they’ve been involved in betting before, maybe even professionally.”

I digest this slowly, the pieces clicking together like some fucked-up puzzle. “So, we’re dealing with someone local who has a good understanding of tech and knows how to set up betting pools. Someone who’s careful.”

“Exactly. I’ve also been running keyword searches across other local forums and chat groups, lookingfor similar language or cross-posts. There’s one username that keeps cropping up.They’ve been posting anonymously, but the digital signature is the same as the one used to set up the betting pool. It’s a handle that’s also been active in other sketchy forums—mostly sports and fantasy leagues.”

“Can you trace it back?”

“I’m trying, but this guy’s slippery. He’s using burner emails and spoofed MAC addresses. Each time I get close, he swaps to a new account. But I’m narrowing it down. I’ve set up some honeypots on a few of the pages he frequents. If he takes the bait and logs in, I can triangulate his location and get a fix on him.”

“Jesus, Mark. You’re a goddamn genius.”

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Let’s hold off on the accolades until I’ve got something solid. But we’re getting there. This person isn’t infallible. One slip-up, and he’s mine.”

“Keep digging,” I say, my voice hard. “And when you find something, I want to know. I don’t care if it’s three in themorning. Call me.”

“You got it,” he replies seriously. “And Owen? Be careful. If this guy knows you’re onto him, he might escalate. People like this don’t fold when they’re cornered.”

“I’m not worried about me,” I say softly, glancing toward the bedroom door where Willow sleeps, blissfully unaware of the shitstorm swirling around her. “I’m worried about what this asshole will do if he feels threatened. Just get me something I can use.”

“I will,” Mark promises. “But until then, keep this quiet. Don’t go busting heads because you’ve got a lead. We need to be smart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, more to placate him than anything else. I’ll be smart—for Willow’s sake. But if I get even a whiff of this asshole going near her, all bets are off.

“I’m serious, Owen,” Mark presses. “Let me do this my way. He’s hiding behind anonymity, but nobody’s completely invisible online. I’ll find him. But if you act too soon, he’ll go dark, and we’lllose him.”

I clench my jaw, hating every word because he’s right. The need to protect Willow surges like a tidal wave. But all I can do for now is wait. And watch. And pray that the bastard behind this makes a mistake. Because the second he does, I’ll be ready.

“Fine. But don’t take too long,” I grunt.

“I’m on it, buddy. Sit tight.”

“Before you go, there’s, uh, something else I wanted to ask,” I say, feeling awkward.

“Oh? Would this be about you and Willow, by any chance?” Mark asks, hazarding an educated guess.

“Yeah, actually.” I clear my throat, pushing down my embarrassment. “You’ve always been confident with women. I was, uh, wondering if you had any advice… you know… in the bedroom.”

I wait for Mark to laugh and give me a hard time, but instead he says, “About fucking time, Callahan.”

“Yeah, it is,” I say sheepishly.

Mark chuckles. “Aren’t you supposed to know these things? You being a biology teacher and all?”

“Dry facts and reality are two different things.”

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