What the Ocean Recorded
It was raining. It always rained in the Drowned City, and Detective Cormac Doyle's prosthetic knee ached in a way that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the fact that he was thirty-eight when he was really forty-five and the knee was a cheap replacement that the Port Authority had issued him after a diving accident in '64. He was sitting at his desk in an office above...
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