The Faded Alibi
The light in the foyer had changed, or perhaps Bjorn Dahlberg’s eyes had simply given up on the task of seeing what was there, but the house remained, standing with the stubbornness of a debt that refuses to be paid. He stood in the center of the room, forty-two years old, a veteran of the National Guard whose uniform now hung in a closet that smelled of mothballs and old regrets, and he wanted...
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