The Faded Alibi
The transfer request lay on the desk, a single sheet of cream-colored paper with Thorne’s name typed in the upper left corner. He had signed it three times, the ink blotting slightly where his hand had trembled, a tremor he attributed to the cold damp that seeped through the floorboards of the Oakhaven precinct. He was forty-two years old, and the city felt less like a place he served and more...
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