"You'll find him at St. ” Michelle fired back merrily. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. Jonathan, however, was well acquainted with the road. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. 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. ‘What is it?’ asked Roding.
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