The Golden Suspect
The border patrol van died on the ridge with a sound like a bone snapping, its engine coughing black smoke into the pale, winter air that bit through wool and leather. It was the end of the world, or at least the end of the known map, where the gravel road dissolved into the scrubby, wind-scoured tundra of the northern highlands. Elias Vane sat in the driver’s seat, his hands still resting on...
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