Page 52
Story: Black to Light
Maybe it was even a touch of anticipation I saw in his unfocused eyes.
Then the shot rang out… and Black spoke.
“There! Stop it!”
Morgan paused the recording.
Black walked up to the wall-length monitor
He traced his long fingers over the right-hand corner of the screen.
I hadn’t seen it during the first run-through, but when Black followed the path with his fingers, I pulled the wispy outlines out of the shifting light of the rest of the frame. I’d been so focused on Rucker, on the damage the bullet did to his face and skull, I’d completely missed what Black had seen.
It was a curl of smoke.
“The shooter knew exactly where the cameras were,” Black said. “He was sitting right under them. He likely set up his shot there for that exact reason.”
Morgan re-wound it again, and played it forward at regular speed.
That time, all of us saw it.
The shot rang out. Rucker slammed into the door jamb. And smoke curled up quietly on the edge of the frame right before Lucian collapsed. I didn’t see a gun, or a flash from the muzzle, but Black was right. The killer had perched just behind the camera.
The muzzle of the rifle had been just out of range of the wide-angle lens.
“Where is that?” Black asked, turning to Morgan.
Morgan frowned. He tilted his head, as if thinking.
Then, exhaling a breath, he seemed to make up his mind.
“Come with me,” he said.
The camera was situated on a balcony railing on a different wing of the building.
The angle was relatively high, but the telephoto had been pulled in on the camera aimed at that particular door. Seven other cameras pointed at different parts of the back part of thebuilding and parking lots, and covered four other entrances and exits.
All of us, meaning the security chief, Morgan, plus Black, Nick, and I, leaned over the stone balcony. Wicker had returned to his lab once it was clear he was no longer needed.
The balcony itself was huge, and had been decorated to resemble a small park, with trees in planters, stone benches with cushions, small stone tables, a wall fountain of a god’s head that looked vaguely familiar, outdoor heaters with umbrellas, stone sculptures, palms, flowers. The balcony’s architecture fit the same style, with ridged columns under a flat, stone edge.
Even the cameras had been coated in stone-like casings so they wouldn’t be noticeable from the other side.
“You said your people dusted for fingerprints on the door leading out here, and all of the furniture?” Black asked Morgan.
The tall, wraith-like security chief nodded. “Yes. It’s down in the lab. They were going to run it against all employees.”
“What about the balcony itself?” Nick asked. “And the cameras?”
“Presumably, yes.”
I fought to hold in a scoff.
From Black’s expression, he felt the same, maybe more so. I was still looking at Black’s face when Nick crouched down, peering at the columns just under the cameras.
I saw his nose wrinkle, though it was subtle.
He peered at the columns themselves, examining each one, then glided back to his full height, still holding the umbrella in one hand. Luckily, Morgan hadn’t asked about it, or about the gloves. Or the hat. Or the sunglasses.
Then the shot rang out… and Black spoke.
“There! Stop it!”
Morgan paused the recording.
Black walked up to the wall-length monitor
He traced his long fingers over the right-hand corner of the screen.
I hadn’t seen it during the first run-through, but when Black followed the path with his fingers, I pulled the wispy outlines out of the shifting light of the rest of the frame. I’d been so focused on Rucker, on the damage the bullet did to his face and skull, I’d completely missed what Black had seen.
It was a curl of smoke.
“The shooter knew exactly where the cameras were,” Black said. “He was sitting right under them. He likely set up his shot there for that exact reason.”
Morgan re-wound it again, and played it forward at regular speed.
That time, all of us saw it.
The shot rang out. Rucker slammed into the door jamb. And smoke curled up quietly on the edge of the frame right before Lucian collapsed. I didn’t see a gun, or a flash from the muzzle, but Black was right. The killer had perched just behind the camera.
The muzzle of the rifle had been just out of range of the wide-angle lens.
“Where is that?” Black asked, turning to Morgan.
Morgan frowned. He tilted his head, as if thinking.
Then, exhaling a breath, he seemed to make up his mind.
“Come with me,” he said.
The camera was situated on a balcony railing on a different wing of the building.
The angle was relatively high, but the telephoto had been pulled in on the camera aimed at that particular door. Seven other cameras pointed at different parts of the back part of thebuilding and parking lots, and covered four other entrances and exits.
All of us, meaning the security chief, Morgan, plus Black, Nick, and I, leaned over the stone balcony. Wicker had returned to his lab once it was clear he was no longer needed.
The balcony itself was huge, and had been decorated to resemble a small park, with trees in planters, stone benches with cushions, small stone tables, a wall fountain of a god’s head that looked vaguely familiar, outdoor heaters with umbrellas, stone sculptures, palms, flowers. The balcony’s architecture fit the same style, with ridged columns under a flat, stone edge.
Even the cameras had been coated in stone-like casings so they wouldn’t be noticeable from the other side.
“You said your people dusted for fingerprints on the door leading out here, and all of the furniture?” Black asked Morgan.
The tall, wraith-like security chief nodded. “Yes. It’s down in the lab. They were going to run it against all employees.”
“What about the balcony itself?” Nick asked. “And the cameras?”
“Presumably, yes.”
I fought to hold in a scoff.
From Black’s expression, he felt the same, maybe more so. I was still looking at Black’s face when Nick crouched down, peering at the columns just under the cameras.
I saw his nose wrinkle, though it was subtle.
He peered at the columns themselves, examining each one, then glided back to his full height, still holding the umbrella in one hand. Luckily, Morgan hadn’t asked about it, or about the gloves. Or the hat. Or the sunglasses.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 163