I could feel the grave, could feel Edwin Alonzo Herman lying underneath me. Yes, he said it, and his voice was softer, less angry. You pretended to call the cops, didn't you? He gave me a who-me look, which meant I was right. His face was utterly peaceful.
I've had people buy me jewelry, clothes, weekends in great hotels and spas, but no one ever let me buy what I wanted with their money, only what they thought I wanted. I talked while I moved, Slowly, drop the knife. Because in that instant, my blood had been Jean-Claude's, and his mine. It's worse than almost anything I've ever felt.
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