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Unformatted text preview: R he'd gotten a kick out of it. Mona and Gifford had gone target practic- ing together in a funny place in Gretna where you wore ear covers and eye covers and fired at paper targets in long concrete carrels. Ah, the gun, yes, and also here was the notepad he had put there himself some weeks before. And a fine-point black pen, perfect. He took the pad and pen, and shut the drawer. Dear Aaron, Somebody's going to take this note to you. Because I will not have a chance to tell you this for some time. I still think you're all wrong about the T. They couldn't have done those things. They just couldn't. But there is another corroborating opinion. This you need to know. This is the poem Julien recited to me, the poem Ancient Evelyn recited to him over seventy years ago. I cannot get away to ask Ancient Evelyn if she remembers it. She's no longer talk- ing sense, they tell me. Maybe you can ask her. This is what is written in my mind. One will rise who is too evil. One will come who is too good. Twixt the two, a witch shal...
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- Spring '10