The Golden Suspect
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the gravel road into a slurry that sucked at the tires of Dr. Elias Thorne’s sedan. He pulled into the town square of Oakhaven, a place that smelled of wet rust and diesel, and stepped out into the gray afternoon. The municipal building stood at the center, a brick box with peeling paint, its windows dark and wary. Thorne adjusted his collar, the...
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