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the market is slow.”
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“He was in your office,” I said. “He was taking pictures of a file on your desk.”
Taylor froze, his hand dropping from the green box.
“Which file?” he asked.
“A manila one,” I said. “In the top drawer.”
He turned back to the window, his shoulders tense under the thin cotton of his shirt.
“It is nothing,” Taylor said.continue reading …
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