The Faded Frequency
"Take the night shift, Vane. Halloway is indisposed." The words hung in the damp air of the exchange, cold and sharp, cutting through the static hiss of the telegraph lines. Elias Vane did not look up from the ledger he was balancing, his pen scratching a thin, jagged line across the paper. He was thirty years old, a man who had spent the last two years drifting from town to town, carrying a...
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