The Golden Suspect
The rain did not fall so much as it seeped into the stone, a cold, gray sweat that clung to the walls of the University of St. Jude’s, a fortress of learning that had stood for six centuries and seemed to be slowly sinking into the earth beneath it. Julian Ashworth stood at the window of his study, a room that smelled of damp wool, old paper, and the metallic tang of anxiety, and watched the...
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