Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. "Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Yes, very well.
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