Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. And then you go—and half throttle me. Blue Ruin will do the job nicely. What about your real mother? Wasn’t she also a foster child? Michelle told me that she was suspected of murder, some people named McFerrin, McDougal. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it. But all normal humans smelled wonderful to her, even dirty ones.
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