The Wistful Witness
The rain in Seattle did not fall so much as it suspended itself, a gray curtain that blurred the edges of the city into a watercolor of wet concrete and sodium light. Elias Thorne sat in his study, the windowpane fogs with his breath, though the heating system hummed its steady, indifferent low note. On the desk before him lay the evidence, but not the kind that would hold up in a courtroom. It...
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