The Distant Temple
The ledger is closed, Elias. Director Halloway did not look up from the paper. His pen moved in small, precise loops, the scratching sound sharp against the heavy silence of the office. The air in the Ironwood Reformatory’s administrative wing smelled of wet stone and old fear, a dampness that seemed to seep through the floorboards and into the boots of the two guards standing by the door....
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