The Faded Alibi
The rain in the Blue Ridge does not fall so much as it hangs, a gray curtain drawn tight against the glass of your cruiser, blurring the world into a smear of wet slate and dying leaf. You are Elias Thorne, forty-five years old, with twenty years of federal service etched into the stiffness of your knuckles and the persistent ache in your lower back, and you are driving toward a single, glowing...
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