The Faded Masquerade
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the gravel lot outside the Federal Correctional Facility into a slick, brown mirror that reflected the stark, geometric brutality of the building’s facade. Inside the perimeter fence, in the isolated administrative annex known as Block C, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and floor wax. Detective Elias Thorne stood by the window,...
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