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the chocolates.”
The officer’s eyes sharpened. “That is important,” he said. “Do you have that recorded?”
“No,” I admitted.
The words made something in me go very still.
I was a forensic accountant. I lived by documentation. I lived by proof.
I could not undo what happened, but I could make sure the truth did not slip away into plausible deniability.
That continue reading …
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