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It belonged to his aunt Margaret.
So did the driver’s license, phone, credit cards, and signed blank checks I’d just pulled from a dusty pink backpack behind Nathan’s childhood couch.
The doorknob moved.
Margaret had been gone for hours.
Nathan was the last person known to have seen her.
« I’m busy, » I called.
« Then who are you talking to? »
I swallowed.
« I’m talking to Celia. »
« I’m busy. »
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