E. There were too many kills, too many unsolved files in too many cabinets. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance.
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