" "Your own was equally so," said Jackson ironically. " "Very well. "You've got to kill me to get out of here alive. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Drawing the pay of life and then not living.
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