” Lucy said, mentally resolving to get to the Joliet Library as soon as possible to see the records Michelle had unburied. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. “Just fine.
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