The Pale Protocol
The letter was found tucked into the lining of a coat that had hung in the back of the precinct station for three days, the wool damp and heavy with the smell of rain and old tobacco. Margaret Holloway did not open it immediately. She stood by the window of her small, drafty apartment in the coastal town of Oakhaven, watching the gray sea churn against the jetty, and held the envelope in her...
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