The Golden Crossing
"You need to see this," Sheriff Ellison said. He laid the photograph face down, then turned it over slowly, the way a man handles evidence he does not trust. I picked it up. The print was grainy, shot through a telephoto lens in failing light, but there was no mistaking the shape. A bridge, suspended across the gorge, catching the dawn so that its steel trusses glowed the color of smelter run....
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