The attic hadnt been opened since the flood waters receded and nobody in the family could say why the door had been nailed shut in the first place Behind it wrapped in oilcloth and tucked beneath a collapsed rafter lies a diary bound in cracked leather the color of dried blood Its pages are brittle its ink faded to rust and its final entry is dated the night before its owner vanished in 1947
The entry describes a killing that the New Orleans pol...
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