Shadows in the Red Light
The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the grime slicker. I'd been back from Korea for eight months when I decided to start asking questions again. The war had taught me how to shut mine, but the paper—my editor at the Los Angeles Chronicle—wanted a reporter, not a mute. So I started asking. Charlie Benson was the one who brought me the story. We'd gone to college...
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