The Faded Alibi
Mara held the bone in her palm. It was a metacarpal. The third one. She had pulled it from the mud of the quarry bank before the rain started, a sliver of white against the dark, wet earth. It was small. Fragile. It had shattered into three distinct pieces, a jagged fan of calcium and collagen that fit together with a sickening, dry click. She closed her fingers around the shards. They cut into...
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