The Golden Suspect
The document was a list of debts, printed on heavy stock paper with ink that had already begun to fade in the damp, and you held it in your remaining good hand while the mud of the Somme sucked at your boots, the left hand that had once held a rifle now a shattered, useless thing of twisted bone and wet flesh that you had tied to your wrist with a strip of your own shirt. You were Sergeant...
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