The Golden Suspect
The rain hammered against the single pane of the precinct’s front window, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into the bones of everyone standing in the dim, yellow-lit room, while Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the center of the tiled floor, his hands trembling slightly as he held the stolen gold idol, its surface radiating a heat that felt less...
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