DARK CITY a gripping detective mystery by CHRISTOPHER M. COLAVITO Page A

of them had alibis that were unquestionable. It was hard enough to believe a murder had occurred in a locked room, but now that they knew the deck was stacked against any one of them standing out as a suspect, the coincidence became harder to accept.
    “What do you think the chances are of all three of us having such tidy little alibis? It's almost as though someone planned the whole thing.”
    “Then we know Emerson didn't do it, since he's not smart enough to do anything more complicated than tying his shoes.”
    “I'm plenty smart enough to kill Dad if I wanted to . . . not that I did.”
    “That sounded like a confession to me.”
    “Children, stop fighting. If one of us did kill your father, we're not going to abandon whoever it was. We're still a family, and we're going to stick together. Besides, Tory, you're clearly the better candidate.”
    “What? Why me?”
    “You and your little stoner friends don't remember half the things you do. You could have done it in a haze of smoke and woken up with no memory of it.”
    “Look who's talking. You hated him more than any of us. If anyone was going to kill him, it was going to be you.”
    “That's absurd. I got everything I could out of the man. What else could I have wanted?”
    “You couldn't stand that he was happier without you.”
    “You ungrateful little twerp.”
    The argument spiraled out of control, resentment and frustration building to a fever pitch. Faith and Tory circled each other, venom in their eyes, ready to tear the other's throat out. As Tory coiled, her body ready to pounce on her mother, Emerson caught her, pulling her back.
    “Let go of me.”
    “See, this is what I mean. You have violence in your heart.”
    “I haven't killed anyone yet, but you're tempting me.”
    “Stop it, the both of you. Fighting isn't going to help anything. We seem to have reached an impasse.”
    “One of you kids is guilty. I'm sure of it now. But don't worry, I'm not going to turn my back on you, and you shouldn't turn your backs on each other. We're better off without your father, so let's agree to keep all of this between us.”
    “Agreed.”
    “Fine.”
    They retreated to separate rooms to reflect. There was a murderer among them, they were all now convinced, though they could not agree on whom. Enough misery had befallen the family that they felt no need to add more fuel to the fire. They would keep this discovery to themselves for now, but only for as long as it took to discover which of them was the guilty party. They each hoped they would find the answer before one of them became the second victim.

Chapter 10
    Remnants Of Evil
     
    Detective Lane was waiting for his partner to return from the bowels of the building. He didn't lack the disposition necessary to frequent the autopsy room, but felt he was of better use in other places. His focus would wane the longer he stood surrounded by dead bodies, experience told him. Pictures would tell him as much as an actual body, maybe more. This was the wonderful thing about the advancement of technology; one could see things the naked eye could not discern. Lane embraced this shift to modernity, whereas Detective Knox was more resistant to giving up on tradition.
    To Knox, experience was everything. Without seeing, hearing, or feeling evidence for himself, he struggled to believe it was real. It was a philosophical point of contention, but one he clung to desperately. Information did not exist for him if it were in numbers and words, it needed to be more tangible than a sheet of paper. Depth was lost when it was reduced to two dimensions, and while other people may be comfortable working with the remainder, Detective Knox needed to have everything in front of him.
    “That was another dead end.”
    “That's becoming a refrain.”
    “Did I ever tell you I hate music?”
    Lane wanted to pause the conversation and explore that point. He couldn't comprehend how someone could live without a fundamental piece of the