The Faded Alibi
The clipboard was heavy, its plastic cover warped by the humidity that clung to the peeling wallpaper of the administrative wing, and Elias Thorne held it against his chest as if it were a shield against the cold draft that seeped through the floorboards. He was forty-two years old, a structural engineer with a reputation for precision, and he had been sent to Blackwood Asylum in the autumn of...
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