The Wistful Dinner
The gravel crunched under the tires of the unmarked sedan, a sound that seemed to echo in the hollow chest of Sergeant Elias Thorne as he drove toward the outskirts of Harrow Creek, a town that sat in the valley like a bruise refusing to heal. The rain had stopped an hour ago, leaving the air thick with the scent of wet pine and decaying leaves, a smell that clung to his wool coat and settled...
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