Whispers in the Pines
The rain came in sheets, turning the gravel road into a slick ribbon of mud. Clara tightened her coat against the cold, her boots crunching over broken glass as she stepped into the town square. The air smelled of damp…
crime fiction
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Whispers in the Pines
The morning air smelled of pine resin and damp earth as Mara stepped off the rusted bus, her boots crunching on gravel. The town of Black Hollow lay sprawled below, its rooftops bleached by sun and time. She hadn’t returned…