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Government? He guessed that his visitor was in his early forties, tall and very fit. Dressed for the weather, he had on a waterproof jacket, dark pants, and workmans boots.
The caretaker watched the way the man stepped away from the car and looked around, taking More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak in his surroundings. Not government--- military. crawfish boil
opened the door and came out under the overhang, observing how his visitor stood there, gazing through the gates of the cemetery, oblivious to the rain matting his dark hair. Maybe this is his first trip back here, the caretaker More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak thought. They were all hesitant their first time, loath to enter a 18th street gang
associated with pain, grief, and loss. He looked at the mans left hand and saw no ring. A widower? He tried to remember if a young woman had been interred recently. Hello. The voice startled More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak the caretaker. It was gentle for such a big man, and soft, as if hed thrown the salutation bae systems
a ventriloquist. Howdy. If youre fixin to visit, I got an umbrella I can let you have. Id appreciate that, thank you, the man said, but he didnt move. The More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak caretaker reached around the corner into a stand made from an old watering can. He gripped the handle of the umbrella and stepped toward bae systems
man, taking in his visitors high-planed face and startling navy blue eyes. Names Barnes. Im the caretaker. If you tell me who More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak youre visiting, I can save you wandering around in this mess. Sophia Russell. Russell, you say? Doesnt ring a bell. Let me look it up. Wont take but a minute. Dont bother. I nano mask
find my way. I still gotta have you sign the visitors book. The man unfurled the umbrella. More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak Jon Smith. Dr. Jon Smith. I know where to find her. Thank you. The caretaker thought he detected a break in the mans voice. He raised his arm, about to call after him, but the man was cutco knives
walking away, his strides long and smooth, like a More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak soldiers, until he disappeared into the gray sheets of rain. The caretaker stared after him. Something cold and sharp danced along his spine, made him shudder. Stepping back into the gatehouse, he closed the door and bolted it firmly. From his desk, he removed n95 mask
visitors ledger, opened More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak it to todays date, and carefully entered both the mans name and the time he had arrived. Then, on impulse, he turned to the back of the ledger, where the interred were listed in alphabetical order. Russell. . . Sophia Russell. Here she is: row 17, More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak plot 12. Put into crawfish boil
ground . . . exactly one year ago! Among the three mourners whod signed the register was Jon Smith, M.D. So why didnt you bring flowers? Smith was grateful for the rain as he walked along the road that wended its way through Ivy More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page White Oak Hill. It was like a shroud, strung across memories that cutco knives
had the power to .
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