The Faded Alibi
The house stood at the end of the gravel drive like a sentinel that had forgotten its post, its white clapboard siding weathered to the color of old bone, the shutters hanging slightly askew in the persistent dampness of the coastal October air. Sergeant Elias Thorne sat in the kitchen, his back against the cold tile of the floor, the weight of his service weapon resting heavily against his...
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