She picked up the hand cannon. He waited. “I will tell you the truth. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. There were no evidences of any struggle, no overturned chairs or disarranged furniture. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. He had not had time to aim the pistol.
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