Wood. ” Lucy gestured to the Treehouse, which had been roofed and framed. Here, turnkey. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. Saviour's Stairs. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror.
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