“This girl is always this way for Mr. Marlowe.” She purred. “It is her purpose.” I did not argue with her. She had moved herself down in the s...at, her legs spread slightly, holding my two middle fingers firmly, moving her womanhood against them in an ever-increasing rhythm. It was all I could do not to pull the car over there on the freeway and risk an arrest for public indecency. Her breathing turned into an unending series of short gasps and I could feel the beginning tremors of her impending. Wouldn’t someone have stopped him? And how did he manage, soaked in blood, to sneak into an internet café?A voice spoke to me from the dark. The soft female voice again. It was sweet as honey, the voice, but its words bit.“In China, they stand. They watch. The bystanders don’t usually get involved. They watched the girls get murdered. Are they as guilty as the killer? Do you think?”I dropped my phone, bounced up in bed, scanned around the room, yelled, “Who’s there?”The voice disappeared. I. More

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