Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. “Please, stay a while longer. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. E. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. It isn’t such fun as it seems. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky.
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