The Pale Verdict
The train hissed into the station at dawn, a long exhalation of steam that hung in the cold air like a ghost unwilling to depart. Inspector Elias Thorne stepped off the platform, his boots crunching on the gravel. He did not look up. He was looking at his hands, specifically at the left one, which trembled with a fine, persistent vibration that the morning chill did nothing to soothe. The city...
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