The Manuscript at Blackwater Manor
I. The key was heavier than Elizabeth had expected, which was perhaps fitting—it was the weight of forty years of locked rooms and unopened doors. She stood in the doorway of Blackwater Manor's basement with a flashlight in one hand and the key in the other, and the air that rose to meet her was thick with the smell of damp paper and river mud. The Mississippi had been close to this house for...
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