Hill again—alive. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. Rowland's plans were quickly formed, and as quickly executed. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. Everything. The old aspect of the place was gone. Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March.
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