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Chapter 557

Author: Crystal Claire
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

Early Saturday afternoon, Conner swung his BMW to the curb just up the street from a Mexican restaurant a few blocks north of Wilshire Boulevard. The restaurant occupied an unpretentious tan adobe building sandwiched between a hardware store and a discount clothes outfit, but he had eaten there before and knew the food was good. When Keith Stennie responded to Conner’s request for a meeting by suggesting they meet here for a late lunch, Conner had readily agreed. Intrigued by what he’d heard about the young writer, he wanted to form his own impression of the man behind the grisly incidents the killer was so faithfully copying.

As soon as he crossed through the restaurant’s weathered wood doors, a smiling young Mexican woman in a colorfully embroidered white blouse and long black skirt pranced out from behind the hostess counter to greet him. Her shiny black hair was pulled behind her head in a thick ponytail, held in place by a wide leather band with a woode

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    Finally, Cecilia broke the stalemate. Still not sure what the ultimate answer might be, she put her finger to her lips, signaling Conner not to say anything. He watched as she turned the key and pressed the switch to close the convertible top. The black roof rose silently from the back, unfolding itself above them like a dark spectre spreading its cloak to block out the stars. When the roof locked into place with a sharp click, Cecilia put the car in gear and swung out onto Mulholland Drive.They rode in silence, winding through the hilltops until they reached the 405 freeway. The quiet hung between them like a palpable thing, weighing on Conner’s mind, emphasizing rather than masking their problem, but he dared not break Cecilia’s unspoken command. Instead, he leaned forward and switched on the radio, choosing a mellow jazz station to color the silence. Cecilia gave no notice. As they sped down the long incline toward the city, he wondered what was going through

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    Searing hot pain shot like lightning throughout every inch of Serena’s body. Well, every inch she could feel, which left her very disturbed indeed, because she couldn’t feel anything past her waist. She could barely breathe without severe pain ripping through her chest and back. She knew what that meant—broken ribs. But what about her legs? Where were they? And why did her wrists feel shackled? Oh, dear God! What’s become of me? Her shallow breaths quickened. Her heart raced and fought for freedom behind her aching chest. Tears burst through her closed eyes and flowed untapped down the sides of her face.A voice sliced through the whooshing sound in her ears. A voice she knew all too well, and had come to despise with every molecule in her being.“Uh, Doc, I think she’s coming ’round. What do you want me to do?” Steve asked.“Hmm? Oh, nuffin. Nuffin, Seeve. Jus’ keep watchin’,” Dr. Chappo sl

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