The Distant Clue
The glass stopper of the tincture bottle rolled across the damp stone floor, striking the baseboard with a hollow, wooden thud that echoed in the silent room. Dr. Elias Thorne did not look down at it; his hands were occupied with the hem of Clara’s nightgown, which he was pulling back to expose the skin of her ribs, a task that required a steady hand and a heart that could bear the weight of...
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