The Faded Alibi
The train to Harrowgate moved with a sluggish, grinding patience that matched the grey sky pressing down on the industrial district, and Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the carriage with his briefcase resting heavily on his knees, feeling the vibration of the tracks travel up through the soles of his shoes and into the marrow of his bones. He was not a man who spoke much, nor did he expect...
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