Read Online DARK CITY a gripping detective mystery by CHRISTOPHER M. COLAVITO - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: CHRISTOPHER M. COLAVITO
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over time, it would eat away at them cell by cell, until they were walking shells waiting to be filled by the evil of the day.
Detective Knox preferred the quiet. High-profile cases brought too much attention, and with it came unwanted glances over his shoulder. The last thing he wanted was to miss a connection because he was busy brushing someone aside. He found comfort in the apathy his coworkers offered on a daily basis, how he only felt noticed when someone needed his help. The relationships were somewhat parasitic, but they beat having genuine human connections with too many people at once, or so Knox thought.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Knox heard Lane's voice, and wondered whether the question was rhetorical. No, he didn't want the company, but his partner had been clinging onto his every move, and may have thought an invitation had been extended. He had, Knox thought, become imprinted on him like a freshly hatched duckling. His mood had been improving, until this thought tied an anchor around him.
“It doesn't take two of us to drop off a drive to the tech guys, unless you think I can't walk all the way down the hall without needing you to hold my hand.”
“I was just asking.”
“And I was just teaching you that the old saying is wrong, and there are stupid questions. That was one of them.”
“Fine. I'll stay here and try to be productive.”
“You do that.”
Knox headed off, shaking his head at the damage evolution had caused in the span of a single generation. Detective Lane had a good heart, but Knox didn't believe he possessed the fortitude needed for a lifetime of laughing in the face of death. Knox didn't buy into the old stereotypes of masculinity, but there were places where the ability not to need, not to feel, were necessary. They lived in one of those worlds, and he was thankful to have had his softer tendencies driven out of him a lifetime ago.
Technology was of no interest to Detective Knox. As long as he knew how to read the results the experts gave him, he didn't care how or why any of it worked. To him, it seemed as if information was pulled out of the air, seemingly from nowhere, and the biggest sin of all would have been to reveal the secrets behind the trick. He preferred to stay in the dark, so that he would never be put in a position where he might be locked in an office with the machines, away from where the real work was done.
The technicians running the lab preferred Knox to anyone else in the building, because they knew this about him, and were relieved he had no interest in hanging around to learn how the illusion was cast. Like Knox, they preferred to work in solitude, without people questioning their every movement. Neither side would ever admit it, but they were more alike than they would care to admit.
Knox walked in, tossing the bag containing the drive onto the table, turning around before he heard it click on the glass surface. He would have left without saying a word, had he not been called back.
“What's this?”
“You're the expert, shouldn't you know?”
“Good one. What case, and what's the issue?”
“It's for the Hobbes murder. You know, the one everyone's calling the locked room mystery.”
“Oh, that one.”
“Yeah. I found this at the scene, but it's encrypted. Can you get into it?”
“Of course I can. It might take a little while, depending on how sophisticated it is, but we'll get whatever is on there.”
“Great. Don't bother me until then.”
“Why would I want to?”
“Touché.”
Knox turned on his heel, grinding the familiar wear pattern further into the sole. It was not a conscious choice, but it was one he thought he would make if it were. There was something alluring about the fluidity of the movement that didn't seem to mesh with the realities of life. He saw beauty in the dichotomy, and though it was a small detail, it made him smile.
* * *
Detective Lane was not waiting for him, hands folded. This
Detective Knox preferred the quiet. High-profile cases brought too much attention, and with it came unwanted glances over his shoulder. The last thing he wanted was to miss a connection because he was busy brushing someone aside. He found comfort in the apathy his coworkers offered on a daily basis, how he only felt noticed when someone needed his help. The relationships were somewhat parasitic, but they beat having genuine human connections with too many people at once, or so Knox thought.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
Knox heard Lane's voice, and wondered whether the question was rhetorical. No, he didn't want the company, but his partner had been clinging onto his every move, and may have thought an invitation had been extended. He had, Knox thought, become imprinted on him like a freshly hatched duckling. His mood had been improving, until this thought tied an anchor around him.
“It doesn't take two of us to drop off a drive to the tech guys, unless you think I can't walk all the way down the hall without needing you to hold my hand.”
“I was just asking.”
“And I was just teaching you that the old saying is wrong, and there are stupid questions. That was one of them.”
“Fine. I'll stay here and try to be productive.”
“You do that.”
Knox headed off, shaking his head at the damage evolution had caused in the span of a single generation. Detective Lane had a good heart, but Knox didn't believe he possessed the fortitude needed for a lifetime of laughing in the face of death. Knox didn't buy into the old stereotypes of masculinity, but there were places where the ability not to need, not to feel, were necessary. They lived in one of those worlds, and he was thankful to have had his softer tendencies driven out of him a lifetime ago.
Technology was of no interest to Detective Knox. As long as he knew how to read the results the experts gave him, he didn't care how or why any of it worked. To him, it seemed as if information was pulled out of the air, seemingly from nowhere, and the biggest sin of all would have been to reveal the secrets behind the trick. He preferred to stay in the dark, so that he would never be put in a position where he might be locked in an office with the machines, away from where the real work was done.
The technicians running the lab preferred Knox to anyone else in the building, because they knew this about him, and were relieved he had no interest in hanging around to learn how the illusion was cast. Like Knox, they preferred to work in solitude, without people questioning their every movement. Neither side would ever admit it, but they were more alike than they would care to admit.
Knox walked in, tossing the bag containing the drive onto the table, turning around before he heard it click on the glass surface. He would have left without saying a word, had he not been called back.
“What's this?”
“You're the expert, shouldn't you know?”
“Good one. What case, and what's the issue?”
“It's for the Hobbes murder. You know, the one everyone's calling the locked room mystery.”
“Oh, that one.”
“Yeah. I found this at the scene, but it's encrypted. Can you get into it?”
“Of course I can. It might take a little while, depending on how sophisticated it is, but we'll get whatever is on there.”
“Great. Don't bother me until then.”
“Why would I want to?”
“Touché.”
Knox turned on his heel, grinding the familiar wear pattern further into the sole. It was not a conscious choice, but it was one he thought he would make if it were. There was something alluring about the fluidity of the movement that didn't seem to mesh with the realities of life. He saw beauty in the dichotomy, and though it was a small detail, it made him smile.
* * *
Detective Lane was not waiting for him, hands folded. This
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