Chapter Seventeen
The cold, Michigan weather seeped downward into the city. By three o'clock AM, the shadows hovered above the beech trees that swayed in the teeming rain. While everyone slept in their warm beds, the killer roamed at night, holding the sharp, bloody, knife in his right hand, as the hunting season had had begun.458Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVP5HXJK0dt
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