The Distant Clue
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that blurred the world beyond the windowpane of the manor house, and Elias Thorne stood motionless, his hand resting on the cold glass, watching the taillights of his daughter Clara’s car dissolve into the mist until they were indistinguishable from the wet gravel of the drive. He was seventy-two, a man whose life had been...
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