The Long Price of Tomorrow
Los Angeles, 1947. The rain had been falling for three days, turning the city into a watercolor of neon and shadow, and Jack Morana sat in his office on the eighth floor of the Meridian Building, watching the drops race down his window like prisoners trying to escape a yard they had known all their lives. The case had come to him through a woman named Vivian Cross, who wore red lipstick and a...
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