Trenchard glanced at the document. ’ ‘Yes, but how are you going to find her?’ ‘I will ask—’ She broke off. She was still laughing for about five stabs when she finally that she was bleeding all over her brand new linoleum floor. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour.
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