The Wistful Voyage
The ledger weighed three pounds and four ounces, a weight Elias Thorne had counted twice before placing it in his coat. He stood at the edge of the pier, watching the gulls circle in tight, hungry rings above the churning water, their cries sharp against the damp air. The ferry to Harrow’s Point was late, a rusted hulk that smelled of diesel and wet wool, and Elias adjusted his tie, checking...
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