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A Knife in the Dark

Author: Corey McCullough is an independent copy editor, proofreader, ghostwriter, and author. He lives in western Pennsylvania with his amazing wife Vanessa and their two beautiful daughters. His favorite pastimes are reading, writing, playing video games, spending time with his best friend (Vanessa), and, most of all, being a dad. Night lasts for days on the planet Jannix, and when the sun goes down over a city brimming with corruption and organized crime, no one can be certain they will see another dawn. Retired police detective Jack Tarelli has turned to the bottle to cope with these long nights ever since the unsolved murder of his wife, but when he's called to the home of an enigmatic starship tycoon just hours after a high-profile homicide, he knows his longest night yet has just begun. Led on a chase deep into the shadows of a city that never wakes, the hard-nosed and uncompromising Jack finds himself on the trail of a killer whose true motives shrouded. Was it revenge for an interplanetary business deal gone wrong? Or something more personal? As connections to Jack's own bloody past rise to the surface, it becomes clear that this is more than a search for answers. It's a race against time. And the body count is going to rise long before the sun. A Knife in the Dark is a gritty tech noir story combining elements of "used future" science fiction and film noir in a fast-paced, futuristic thriller.

Corey McCullough · sci-fi
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41 Chs

Chapter 31: Forever Young (Part 3)

For some reason, I decide now's a good time to try standing. When going about it the usual way doesn't work, I prop one knee on the ground and use my hands to boost up to my feet. I've made all sorts of unflattering noises by the time I finally stand. My lower back is stiff. There's a bandage on my hand-the spot where little Wilmer bit me-and I can feel the cooling/heating effect of medical salves at work beneath the bandage on the back of my head. Out of everything, that's the part that hurts worst. That, and my neck, from being picked up and choked. I touch my neck experimentally and flinch.

"I did leave the name Royal Evening," Yvonne says. "You're right about that. But I wasn't trying to pin anything on anybody. I was trying to be found."

I'm about to tell her how little sense that makes when she opens her mouth to keep talking.