The Golden Suspect
The ink on the ledger was still wet, a dark smear against the cream-colored paper, when Elias Thorne looked up from his desk to find the Mayor standing in the doorway. The room smelled of old paper and the faint, metallic tang of the rain that had been falling since dawn. Outside, the village of Oakhaven huddled under a sky the color of bruised slate, the houses leaning into one another as if...
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