” She thought of her father, and with an effort dismissed him from her mind. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind. She had no idea what she should do. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. "Ay. His patient was distinctly of a different order of life.
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