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His father stood. “You can’t record people without permission!”
I looked at him coldly. “This is my barn.”
Outside, tires crunched on gravel.
Caleb glanced toward the open doors, irritated. “Who did you call?”
I didn’t answer.
Blue and red lights washed across the white roses.
Part 3
Sheriff Daniel Holt walked into the barn first, hat in hand, face carved continue reading …
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