It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. "Thinking it likely you might desire to have this information, I prepared accordingly. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. ” The detective went down on his hands and knees. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am.
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