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Unformatted text preview: thing else, just one of those minor-league regrets-! She'd forgotten to send the medal to Michael. She'd found the medal out by the pool only two days after Christ- mas, while the detectives and the coroner's office were making all their tests inside the house, and while Aaron Lightner and that strange colleague of his, Erich Somethingorother, were gathering specimens of the blood that stained the walls and the carpets. "You realize they will write all this in that file?" Gifford had pro- tested, but Ryan had let these men proceed. It was Lightner. Everyone trusted him. Indeed Beatrice was in love with him. Gifford wouldn't be surprised if Beatrice married him. The medal was St. Michael the Archangel. A gorgeous old silver medal on a broken chain. She'd slipped it into her purse, and meant a thousand times to send it to him-after he came home from the hospital of course, so as not to upset him. Well, she should have given it to Ryan before she left. But then again, who knew? Maybe he'd been wearing that medal on Christmas Day, when he'd nearly dr...
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- Spring '10