He raised a hand to acknowledgethem, but kept his attention on Agent O'Malley. The phone rang yet again and the answering machine picked up. They shook hands again and Priest moved toward the door. The muscles in his legs and back were burning.
For what? she asked softly. His gaze strayedto the slim black nine-millimeter pistol she set aside on the kitchentable, but he made no comment about it. He lost it, she murmured, rubbing her fingers over the plasticevidence bag, wanting to touch the book. What will the public think? Screw 'em, Mitch growled.
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