The Distant Clue
Thorne. The name hit the air like a stone thrown into still water, breaking the silence of the station. It was Halloway’s voice. Flat. Dry. It came from the doorway of the main office, where the light from the hallway cut a sharp, dusty wedge across the floor. You stood by the desk, your hands resting on the cold wood. The wood was old oak, darkened by years of use, but lately it felt wrong. It...
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