The Golden Suspect
The rain hit the pavement in a steady, gray rhythm. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood alone on the corner of Fifth and Main. He watched the water pooling in the cracks. It looked like oil. It looked like blood. It looked like nothing. He was a cop. He had been a cop for twenty years. He knew the weight of a badge. He knew the weight of a gun. He did not know the weight of the town. The town was...
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