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The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house.
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