The Distant Clue
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, gray curtain that turned the streets of Chicago into a network of dark, weeping veins, and you stood in the center of the precinct’s break room, holding a pair of muddy, olive-green combat boots that had been found abandoned in the alley behind the Seventh Street precinct, the laces tied in a knot so tight it looked like a bruise, and the...
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