The Golden Suspect
The coal dust settled in Elias Thorne’s throat like a fine, grey powder, coating his teeth and tongue in a taste of ash. He sat in the cramped interrogation room of the Blackwood Mill, the air thick with the smell of wet wool and machine oil. The walls were close, pressing in, and a low, grinding vibration hummed through the floorboards, a sound like teeth chewing on gravel. Elias kept his...
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