The Distant Clue
The old captain sat in the high-backed chair of the patrol car, his hands resting on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, watching the rain blur the headlights into streaks of pale, trembling light. He was a man of few words, a soldier of the borderlands, where the law was written in the mud and the stone, and his uniform, though pressed and clean, smelled faintly of the damp earth and the cold...
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