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ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE: Waves VII
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... lden said quietly, his fingers lifting the sodden sleeve of the dead woman’s sweater from her wrist and then dropping it the moment he determined she wasn’t wearing a smartwatch.
He’d already checked her pockets.
This was the woman he’d tried to get help from earlier. The motorcycle rider. He only knew who she was because he recognized the clothes and the hair. Her face had been crushed.
When Alden had first approached, he’d turned off the flashlight so that he wouldn’t h ...
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