Neon Rogue: A Cyberpunk Mystery Novel (Dawn Moriti Book 2) by I.O. Adler

Author:I.O. Adler [Adler, I.O.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: female protagonist, cyberpunk, dark science fiction, science fiction crime and mystery
Publisher: Lucas Ross Publishing
Published: 2023-06-04T16:00:00+00:00

THE DOWNSTAIRS LEVEL to Chander Mahmud’s cliff-side home had a broken picture window. Lights on the upper floor were out, except for a set of stairs connecting the floors.

Purple, red, and bright white flashes blinked against the broken glass. Shapes moved inside. Fighting, Dawn thought, and she almost broke cover from behind the manicured shrubs at the edge of the property. Yet she hesitated.

They were dancing. Arms gesticulated, bodies twirled, and the lights spun in a frantic blender of eye-popping colors. Strangely, there was no music. It was dead silent.

Dawn crept forward.

A cloud of moths swirled near the broken-out window. It didn’t make sense. No voices, no sounds at all, yet the party remained in full-swing.

Had she gone deaf? Her shoes crunched on pebbles in the dirt. Her eyes hadn’t played a trick on her with the shattered glass, either. A few splinters lay outside, but the window appeared to be broken inward. A curtain stood mostly open.

And the dancers danced.

She touched the window frame. Flinched when a couple wriggled past. They twirled and gyrated, their feet moving across the debris-strewn floor in complete silence.

Dawn reached through the window. Her fingers swept through the woman’s body.

A hologram.

Several moths fluttered past and into what appeared to be an office.

Someone sat in the center of the dancers. A wall screen played a video of a crowded nightclub. It displayed the word Mute on the corner of the screen.

Dawn tightened her gloves and stepped in through the window. “Hello?”

No answer. She passed through the revelers and leaned close to the sitting figure.

Chander Mahmud sat in a pillowy lounge chair beneath the strobing lights. His head hung forward, his arms drooped to his sides, and a small burner hole smudged his right temple. A palm-sized weapon lay on the floor beside him.

Dawn stepped around the broken glass and crouched in front of him. He clearly wasn’t breathing. A trickle of mucus ran from his nose and his eyes were half-open.

Time to go. Yet she lingered.

The flickering lights made details difficult to see, but she scanned the room for anything that might help her know what had happened.

A half-empty bottle of vodka and a glass tumbler stood on a side table. A sliver of ice clung to the surface of the liquor inside the glass. He couldn’t have been dead long.

Chander was divorced, no kids, and as far as Dawn knew, he lived alone.

A quick read of the scene told the obvious tale. Chander had shot himself. She didn’t know him well enough to be familiar with his mental state. No sign of the flash drive. She checked his pockets but found nothing.

His device sat on the table next to the bottle. Used his thumb to unlock it.

His calendar app was full each day for the rest of the week and into the next. No doctor or therapy visits. She clicked on a pharmacy notification and brought up a small list of prescriptions. Nothing to treat depression. Acid reflux was the worst of his problems. Still didn’t rule out Chander shooting himself.

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