Richard reached out toward me, too. I looked at his face, studied it. I have no talent for reading another's thoughts and feelings, ma petite, not to this degree. My face was hot, as if my skin would burn if you touched it.
She looked away then, stared out at the parked cars and the gawkers being kept back by the uniforms. The only name I heard in my head was Perrin, but I knew that wasn't right. If the address leaves this room, more women are going to die. He held his hand out to me, would have touched me, but I moved back, just out of reach.
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