In the Dark
Contents ( 7)
IN THE DARK
______________
ALSO BY BRIAN FREEMAN
Immoral
Stripped
Stalked
WRITE TO THE AUTHOR AT
OR JOIN THE MAILING LIST AT
www.bfreemanbooks.com
IN THE DARK
_________
BRIAN FREEMAN
MINOTAUR BOOKS
NEW YORK
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
IN THE DARK. Copyright © 2009 by Brian Freeman. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Freeman, Brian, 1963–
In the dark / by Brian Freeman.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-312-36329-1
ISBN-10: 0-312-36329-X
1. Murder—Fiction. 2. Duluth (Minn.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3606.R4454I5 2009
813'.6—dc22
2008036290
First Edition: April 2009
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Marcia
That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive.
—ROBERT BROWNING
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
PART ONE: Independence Day
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
PART TWO: Talking to Strangers
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
PART THREE: The Witness
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
PART FOUR: Act of Mercy
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
PART FIVE: Fear of Heights
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
WHO KILLED LAURA STARR?
By Tish Verdure
PROLOGUE
July 4, 1977
When I arrived home near midnight, I could still hear the whistle and pop of fireworks in the neighborhood. The slashing rain had finally diminished to drizzle and fog, and the streets were alive with illegal celebrations. Starbursts opened like hazy flowers over the trees. Sparklers hissed. Bottle rockets screamed. The summer night smelled like candy and burnt-out matches as I stood in the yard and watched the rainbow of lights around me. In the next block, I heard kids whooping as if they were bloodthirsty Indians. I felt wet and wild myself.
When I looked up, I saw that Laura’s upstairs window was dark. There were no signs of life.
I crept into our house through the screen door and tracked damp, bare footsteps across the kitchen floor. I was quiet. I didn’t want my father to hear me and ask me questions about where I had been and what I had done tonight. My mouth could lie, but not my face. If he saw me, he would ask me about Laura, too. Where was she? Who was she with? I didn’t want to risk a repeat of last night.