The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. “I found not one but two photos when I researched the death of the McCloskeys. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo.
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