A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. The vengeance of the assailants did not stop here. ’ Gerald eyed her. She had always wondered when they would start being able to trace her kills, with their expanding systems of criminal databases and computers, and now it was starting to happen. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson.
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