They were pawing Cesar, and he was kissing Ramona, who was kissing him back with enthusiasm. Edward tried to break the stalemate. He held a leash in one hand, and on the end of that leash the third man crawled, not on all fours, but on his hands, and his feet, legs hunched monkey like, or like a whipped dog. It was too heavy, too smooth to be anything else.
Blake was an English name, but before my great-grandfather came through Ellis Island it was Bleckenstien. The pain was sharp and immediate, stealing my breath, bowing my spine. Underneath all that prettiness is someone who thinks like a killer, and a cop, and a monster. I don't understand it.
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