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The scent of fresh conchas drifted into the street. An old pickup truck pulled up, and a group of young men stepped inside to buy water and pastries.
She greeted them politely, barely looking up.
Then her gaze froze.
On the arm of one of the young men was a tattoo. Simple lines. A girl’s face. Large eyes. Braided hair.
Elena felt the blood drain from continue reading …
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