The Pale Bridge
The order is final, Elias. Sign it, and the demolition crew comes in before the frost sets. I did not sign. I held the pen, the nib scratching a dry, angry line against the ledger paper, while Inspector Vane stood behind me, his breath smelling of peppermint and cold iron. The fog was thick that morning, a gray wool that pressed against the windows of the toll booth, muffling the sound of the...
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