The Distant Nightmare
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey veil that smelled of wet iron and old stone. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the property, his coat heavy with the damp, watching the house through the trees. It was a sprawling Victorian manor, half-consumed by ivy, its windows dark and blind. He had come here to investigate a disappearance, a case that had gone cold in...
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