The Golden Suspect
The watch in my pocket had ticked backward for three days, a small, rhythmic betrayal against my thigh. I counted the seconds, or rather, the anti-seconds, as I sat at the kitchen table, the linoleum cold under my chair legs. It was a mechanical fact, as unassailable as the mortgage I was three months behind on. Elias Thorne, investigator for Meridian Mutual, age forty-two, and the owner of a...
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