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<strong>Jack</strong> <strong>kilborn</strong> <strong>SErial</strong> <strong>blakE</strong> <strong>crouch</strong><br />
Donaldson glanced through the windshield, then<br />
checked the rearview mirror. Darkness.<br />
lucy laughed through her shattered nose and ran her<br />
tongue along her swollen upper lip and gums—two front<br />
teeth Mia.<br />
Donaldson blinked and shook his head again. Pulled off<br />
the road onto the shoulder.<br />
“We’re gonna have some fun, little girl,” he said. “and<br />
two hundred and fifty milligrams is like candy to me.”<br />
he ran a clumsy paw across her breasts, squeezing hard,<br />
then turned his attention to the backseat.<br />
The guitar case had two clasps, one on the body, one on<br />
the neck.<br />
Donaldson slapped the left side of his face three times<br />
and then opened the case.<br />
a waft of foulness seeped out of the velvet-lined guitar<br />
lid, although the contents didn’t seem to be the source—a<br />
length of chain. Four pairs of handcuffs. Three carabiners.<br />
Vials of liquid oxycontin. cutlery shears. a spotlight. a<br />
small spray bottle. Two coils of climbing rope. and a snow-<br />
boarding helmet.<br />
The front passenger door squeaked open and Donaldson<br />
spun around as lucy fell backward out of the car. he lunged<br />
into her seat, but she kicked the door. it slammed into<br />
his face, his chin crunching his mouth closed, and as the<br />
door recoiled, he saw lucy struggling onto her feet, her<br />
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