Chapter 13 · free to read
Eleven minutes of dead air had been booked on the city's night station for a recital nobody had advertised.
It was on the seat when they opened the doors at eleven. Nobody had opened the doors before eleven.
At one minute past midnight a suspended cop, a stage tech, a commander who was not there and a club owner who had sold him once all watched Dorian Vale sit down to play the piece that had killed four people.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.