The Golden Oath
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended gray curtain that erased the horizon and turned the wet asphalt of the interstate into a black mirror reflecting the indifferent sweep of the headlights, where Deputy Marshal Elias Thorne sat in the driver’s seat of the unmarked sedan, his hands resting lightly on the wheel as if he were holding a sleeping bird, his eyes fixed not...
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