Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. . It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. You're on the way to big things.
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