The Distant Clue
The concrete dust coats your lungs like fine ash, tasting of iron and stale rain as you press your back against the crumbling retaining wall of the old quarry. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two, and for the first time in fifteen years of service, the weight of your badge feels less like a shield and more like a leaden anchor dragging you into the deep water of your own obsolescence. You want the...
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