The Golden Suspect
Vance, you are blocking the intake queue. The summons came from behind the heavy oak desk of the Meridian Insurance Bureau, a voice stripped of all warmth by the sheer volume of the room and the new acoustic dampening panels that lined the walls. Eleanor Vance, thirty-four years old and senior archivist, did not move. She stood in the corridor of the records room, her fingers still resting on...
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