She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. ‘Not another caller will I receive this day. I shan't let you off a farthing. ‘Tee-ree-sa. You love Ennison. When she was done she checked the patio door and carried his body into the garage, burying his remains next to the ten year old girl he had raped and killed last autumn, whose bones were starting to show in small areas where the maggots had feasted. Let—it—fall. “Why not?” “Because you are mine.
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