The Distant Summer
The bank forecloses in three days, Elias told the woman on the phone, his voice flat and precise. Three days, or I can send the sheriff to change the locks. She had laughed, a dry, papery sound, and hung up. He sat in the driver’s seat of his sedan, the engine ticking as it cooled, watching the light fail over the gravel drive of Halloway House. The estate was a skeleton of brick and ivy, the...
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