For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. He entered the driver’s side, not inserting the keys in the ignition. " "I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town —Jack Sheppard—was in custody. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat.
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