The Faded Shield
The first thing Elias counted was the forks. Forty-two silver forks on the long table, each one polished until it reflected the chandelier above, a cold and sharp mirror for the faces of men who had not touched a suspect in months. He was a Deputy Sheriff, a man who measured his life in hours on the road and the weight of a taser in his hand, and he sat at the far end of the table, counting the...
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