The Distant Clue
The rain had turned the streets of Seattle into a mirror of broken neon and gray asphalt, a slick, reflective surface that seemed to swallow the light of the streetlamps whole. Inside the precinct, the air was stale, smelling of burnt coffee and the metallic tang of old fear that clung to the walls like a second skin. Detective Elias Thorne sat at his desk, his hands resting on the cold...
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