God knew, she was trouble enough as the first female field agent thebureau had ever inflicted upon the unsuspecting county cops of ruralMinnesota. She drifted on it. The words throbbing in her mind, she walked slowlybackward along the time line, from that day's date back, reading thenotations, the most significant details in red, the peripheral events inblue. I suggested she take up one of the newsmagazines on their request for an interview.
A cardboard box under her bed had acted as treasure chest forthe things she and no one else had taken pride in. A piece of dog shit. Marty eased back down into the visitor's chair and made a magnanimousgesture toward the phone. Strands of black hair tumbled across his forehead in a careless look hehad probably spent fifteen painstaking minutes in front of a mirror toachieve.
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