The Golden Maze
The maze was not built for escape. That was the first thing Julian Ashworth-Cross understood, standing at the iron gate with the key burning a hole in his coat pocket—Margaux Duval-Lacombe's key, arriving seventeen months after her funeral in a plain brown envelope bearing no return address, only a stamp from somewhere in the Cotswolds he had never visited. The key fit. The gate opened with a...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima