The Distant Ghost
The stone wall of the old church is colder than the night air, and it hits the back of Elias Thorne’s head with a sound like a dry branch snapping. He tastes copper and old dust, the taste of the river mud he’s been walking through for three weeks, and the pain blooms behind his eyes, white and hot. "You’re done, Elias," Sheriff Vance says, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth that used to...
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