by Charles Todd
Rutledge said, “No.” But he knew he would remember Aurore’s face and her stillness, and the French way she had of shrugging, whenever he thought of Jean. They were inextricably linked, because he and Simon were linked. He could still see the pistol beside the chair, he could smell the powder and the blood.
There but for the grace of God go I…
But Hamish said into the roar of the engine and the sound of the wind whispering through the open car, “Not now. Not yet.”
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