The Faded Bouquet
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey, suffocating curtain that blurred the edges of the highway until the world reduced to the wet asphalt and the relentless drumming against the roof of my sedan. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a private investigator who has spent two decades chasing the shadows of other people’s sins, and I had come to Blackwood Manor not for...
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