The Messenger of Lakeview Cemetery
Act I The wind off Lake Michigan did not care about the dead. It tore through the iron gates of Lakeview Cemetery every morning at six, rattling the brass nameplates on headstones, sweeping fallen leaves across the gravel paths, and finding its way beneath the collars of the few men foolish enough to walk there before noon. Thomas Calloway knew the wind as well as he knew his own name. He had...
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