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At 2 A.M., a Hidden

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mother fear.

Not again.

Never again.

By sunrise, Margaret Caldwell was gone from my house.

Victor placed her in one of my cars with a driver and sent her to the Carlyle in Manhattan under security supervision. Not because I owed her comfort, but because I wanted no accusations that I had abandoned an elderly woman in a storm. Her attorney could meet her continue reading …

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