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look, was the small crescent-moon birthmark.
Robert’s knees felt weak. For a moment, the road, the bike, the patrol car behind her all seemed to fade.
Thirty-one years.
He had searched for that mark for thirty-one years.
She glanced at the paperwork again. “Robert McAllister,” she read aloud. “Is this your current address?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically.continue reading …
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