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She pushed it wider with the nose of the stuffed green alligator she dragged everywhere by one arm.
“Uncle Vin?”
No answer.
The office smelled wrong.
Not like the cedar cabinets Vincent kept polished, or the bitter coffee his assistant carried in every morning.
Metal.
Rain.
Something sharp Adeline could not name.
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The first thing Eleanor Hart thought when the stranger began riding down from the ridge was that she might have dragged nine children across…
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