She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. He was a fool. But one must disguise oneself. Wood. As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat.
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