The Pale Tale
Chapter One Madeleine Thibault’s hands were already black with grease when the phone rang, a shrill, digital shriek that cut through the hum of the overhead lights. She wiped her palms on a rag that was less cloth than fiber, the fabric thinning with years of use, and reached for the receiver hanging off the wall of the garage where she spent her furloughed days fixing what the town refused to...
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