The Golden Master
Thorne. The radio crackled, a burst of static that sounded like tearing paper, and then the voice of the dispatcher, flat and bureaucratic, cut through the silence of the cab. "Unit 4, we have a report of a collapsed structure on Route 9, mile marker forty-two. You are the closest unit. Proceed with caution." Elias Thorne did not answer immediately. His hand rested on the dashboard, fingers...
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