The Wistful Show
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the parking lot of St. Jude’s into a slick, brown mirror that reflected the flickering neon of the pharmacy sign. Margaret Holloway sat in the back of her unmarked sedan, the engine idling with a low, anxious hum. She was not a detective, not in the way the movies understood the word. She was an internal affairs investigator for the municipal...
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