The Golden Harbor
The sedan’s taillights did not fade; they bled into the fog, two red smears that stretched out across the gravel until they were indistinguishable from the wet earth. Elias Thorne stood at the gate of Blackwood Penitentiary, his hand still raised in a gesture of farewell that had lost its meaning ten minutes ago, watching Warden Halloway’s black car dissolve into the grey morning. He wanted the...
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