The Distant Clue
The chisel bit into the granite with a sound like a bone snapping, and the dust rose in a fine, grey cloud that coated your tongue with the taste of iron and cold earth. You are Elias Thorne, and you are thirty-two years old, though the hollows under your eyes make you look a decade older, and the spire of St. Jude’s Cathedral is the only thing keeping you from the gutter. The foreman, a man...
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