The Distant Clue
The explosion did not sound like fire. It sounded like a heavy book slamming shut on a finger, a sharp, definitive crack that shattered the glass of the town’s highest windows before the heat even reached the skin. I was standing in the center of the Grand Hall of the St. Jude’s Magistrate’s Office, a space built in the Victorian era to project an air of unshakeable moral authority, its walls...
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