Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. Sheppard. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. “He was no help to the police, just babbled on about how he was going to marry your Mom and how he was in love with her, that they he had lost his true love, Michelle insisted on repeating that to me, ‘He lost his true love. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy.
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