The Golden Suspect
The river had turned the color of old blood before the first siren even cut the morning air. Thomas Vance stood on the muddy bank of the Ohio, his boots sinking into the mud that smelled of iron and rot. He was a man built of angles and silence, a detective who had spent thirty years chasing shadows in the industrial sprawl of Cleveland, but today the shadow was not ahead of him. It was in the...
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