Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner's detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. " "Who is he?" asked Thames impatiently. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. Sebastian had known it was coming, but he could not avoid sleeping as easily as she could. He hugged her when he saw her in the hallway. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. The father was a madman.
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