She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. “What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?” Ennison looked at him in surprise. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. A brief description will suffice for them.
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