The Distant Clue
The ink on the ledger was still wet when Elias Thorne heard the tap. It came from the plaster behind the filing cabinet, a dry, rhythmic percussion that matched the beat of his own pulse. He did not look up. He continued to transcribe the quarterly figures for the Meridian Shipping Company, his pen moving in a steady, mechanical arc across the page. The office was a narrow strip of room on the...
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