The Neon Dead-End
The rain in 1947 Los Angeles didn't wash anything away; it just smeared the grime of the city into a darker shade of grey. Elias Thorne sat in his office, a room that smelled of stale tobacco and failed ambitions. He was a private investigator who specialized in the kind of cases that the police ignored and the saints feared. Thorne had spent three years chasing a ghost—a man named Dr. Aris...
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