The Faded Alibi
The rusted iron key sat in Elias Thorne’s palm, warm as a living thing. He stood in the federal evidence locker, the fluorescent lights humming a low, sick note above his head. His fingers, thick with the calluses of forty-two years’ service, trembled against the cold steel table. He wanted to burn the key. He wanted to sever the last physical tie to the man who had abandoned his mother and him...
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