Her brown boots stomped the ground as she walked, stepping on the dry autumn leaves on the ground and breaking a few twigs as she went.
She looked up at the sky, but saw the tree leaves instead. Sunlight streamed it's way through the canopy, hitting her left eye that it shut due to the brightness. She looked on ahead and grew terrified for a split second that she gasped. She hurried along realising that she had fallen behind. It's never a surprise because she's one who always got caught off guard by the tiniest of things.
"Stop running," came a deep male voice in front of her. "That will only give it away and we don't want it to know we're coming."
"Yes, daddy," she said, slowing herself down. At least she didn't have to worry about catching up.
"You really shouldn't be falling behind," said her older brother who walked alongside their father.
"Something got caught in my eye," the girl said.
She heard her brother scoff. "You always have some excuse. You know once you get lost wild animals will eat you, right?"
The little girl gasped in fright that she stopped in her tracks. Her father turned back to look at her and quickly threw a deadly glance at his son, who soon knew better than to say such things in front of his little sister.
"You shouldn't say such things," said their father. He turned around and approached his little girl who had her hands clasped together on her chest.
He went down on one knee and in doing so adjusted the shotgun slung around the back of his left arm. He held the tiny shoulders of his daughter in front of him.
"Don't mind what he said," her father assured her. "Nothing will happen to you when you're with me, okay?"
The little girl nodded and dropped her hands instantly. She didn't seem afraid like she did before and she smiled at her father. Her father smiled back, glad that his little girl had put on such a face.
He quickly stood up and turned to look at his eldest son. The boy gulped, knowing he was going to receive a scolding, maybe worse. But his father didn't feel it necessary as he held his daughter's shoulder and continued to lead the way.
After a few moments of walking, they were now deep into the woods. The canopies above didn't allow enough sunlight through, making the place look almost dim out of light. The three continued to walk side by side, the little girl making sure she stuck close to her father.
The continuous chirping of birds and noises from small animal creatures continued all around them. And as much as the little girl tried to concentrate by sticking close to her father, she started to look up at the trees, trying to get a glimpse of the tiny birds around the forest.
A loud snapping of twigs reached their ears, and soon, the girl's father took his daughter by the hand and quickly rushed with her to a fallen log in front of them, taking cover. The girl's brother also did the same.
"What is it, daddy?" the girl asked.
"Sssh," he instructed placing his index finger on his lips.
The father took a little peak over the log and from a distance, he spotted what he had been looking for. He smiled with delight as he turned to look down at his children kneeling on the ground.
"What is it?" his son asked. "Is it the deer?"
His father smiled at him, "it is," he said.
"Can I see it?"
"Of course you can. But be careful. You don't want to alarm it."
The boy slowly raised his upper body and when he saw the deer, he couldn't help but utter in awe, silently.
"I want to see, daddy," said the little girl.
"Sssh, you'll scare the deer away," said her brother sounding annoyed.
"Don't say that to your sister," his father said, almost too loud. They could tell from his tone that he wasn't impressed with the way his son spoke.
"I just want to see," said the little girl, while staring at the ground with her hands on her laps. "I promise I won't make a sound."
"Of course, you can honey pie," said her father, gently. "Now, stand up slowly and make sure the deer doesn't see you, okay?"
The little girl looked up at her father with a sudden brightness in her eyes. She quickly nodded and did exactly as he told her. With his help, she slowly stood up. Her father held her hands so that she wouldn't have to hold the ground covered with dried leaves and twigs. She might as well cause a sound that would scare the deer away.
When she finally saw it, she gasped in awe. She had only seen deers on TV and in children's picture books. Seeing it in the real felt like she had stepped into a whole different world.
"Wow, it's so big," she said, still looking at the creature that had bent its head to eat the vegetation on the ground.
"Yes, that one is a male deer," said her father.
"Male?" the little girl asked, a little puzzled by the word. "You mean like a daddy deer?"
Her father chuckled. She might still be young and clueless about the world, but gradually, she's getting too smart for her own age.
"Yes, like a daddy deer," he replied.
She slowly went back to kneeling on the ground. "Then where is the mummy deer? And the little ones?"
"They must be around somewhere."
"Or they got killed," said the boy beside his sister.
His sister stared at him with a shocking disbelief on her face. His father would've slapped him on the head, but now was definitely not the time to do so.
"Are we going to kill it, daddy?" his little girl asked, looking up at him.
These are the kind of questions most parents find difficult to tell their children, especially if it comes to killing of a living creature. All it required was just a simple yes or no, yet it was difficult for the father to answer.
"Of course, we are," his son said and his daughter's attention drifted to her brother. "That's why it's called a 'hunting' trip. We hunt wild animals down, meaning we kill them. Isn't that right, dad?"
When his father didn't answer right away, his son continued, "that's why dad has his big rifle with him. It's meant for shooting that deer."
"Shooting the deer," the girl repeated the words nervously.
"Yes, like poof," said her brother imitating a gun with his fingers, aiming at her sister.
"Are we really going to shoot the deer, daddy?" the little girl turned her almost teary eyes to her father.
Her father placed his hand on his little girl's head and gently stroked her hair. He nodded his head and saw the full disappointment in her eyes. They were filled with tears now and if she went on to cry, she would definitely scare the deer away.
"We shouldn't have brought her with us, dad," said his son. "This hunting trip is meant for us men, not sissy girls like her."
"I'm not a sissy," said the girl turning to give her brother an angrily glare.
Their father noticed the look in the little girl's eyes. That's why. The look in her eyes. She might look like a vulnerable little girl, but that glare is enough to let others know that she's one not to be dealt with. She's proven herself to many that she didn't like to be bullied or messed around with just because she's a little girl. She's kind and sweet like any other child her age. But at the age of five, she had an element of an adult that made her stand her ground whenever necessary. She's the kind who had already put her older brother and sister in their place a few times.
That's why he had carried her along. His wife was very much against it, of course. Telling him that their little girl didn't suit to do such things and was too young to see death. But he brushed her off, saying that his daughter seemed old enough to see the world for herself and old enough to understand.
"Yes, sweetie, you're not a sissy," said her father. "And that's why when you see me shoot the deer, you won't be mad, okay?"
His daughter looked up at him. She couldn't understand why he said that.
"What do you mean, daddy?" she asked. "Are you really going to kill it?"
"Yes, I am," he replied.
"But why?"
"You see," her father answered gently, "it's simply the law of nature. You know, a long time ago, hunters used to hunt down such animals for survival; to eat and to clothe themselves. They even fought bears and lions that tried to attack them and their families."
"But this deer isn't like a lion, daddy."
"I know you noticed it, dear. You're very smart. We're simply killing it for us to have a nice big meal afterwards, and get its fur for clothing too."
"Oh." The girl sounded disappointed, but she seemed to understand that all this is meant to happen.
"Don't worry, we can keep the head and hang it up in the study room."
"I don't think she would want to see the head of a deer we're about to kill, dad," his son said. His father admitted that he was probably right.
"Will the deer go to heaven?" the girl asked her father.
He nodded. "Of course, it will. We'll make sure to prepare a proper burial for it."
"That's after we get all the meat from it, right?" his son asked.
The father threw his son a look and the boy shrugged his shoulders. Looks like the little man wasn't ready to play along for his little sister. Playing around with her when she wanted to was more than enough. Having a burial for a deer was taking things a little too far.
"Now, do you understand why this has to be done?"
The little girl looked up at her father and nodded her head. She didn't like the fact that the deer had to die. That made her heart ache and her eyes tear up, but she didn't want to be called a cry baby by her brother. She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve to wipe away any evidence of tears. She looked up at her father and gave him the grown up look that she was so famous for portraying.
"Good," her father said as he brought his rifle around and removed the strap on his shoulder over his head. He held it firmly in his hands. "Now, lets get ourselves ready. There will be a loud noise coming from the gun, so I want you two to cover your ears, you hear?"
His two children nodded and their father adjusted himself as he went on to put the nozzle of the rifle on the log in front of him so as to hold the gun properly.
His children moved themselves a little further away from their father, but silently on their knees. The little girl stood up a little so as to see the deer. She felt a huge lump on her throat as she stared at the creature, unaware of their presence.
"You know, if you don't want to see, you can close your eyes," her brother said.
"No, she shouldn't," their father whispered, without turning to look at them. "She should see this."
The two children looked at each other and wondered what could be going through their father's mind right now. There were times when he did or said things that didn't seem appropriate for his children to do. Their mother sometimes always told him it wasn't necessary, but it was hard not to do so with a father like him; always stern and demanding.
"Trust me, Rhénee," Mr. Johnson said as he had his index finger on the trigger. His other hand worked on the safety and he had his gun aimed and ready. "One day, you'll face something even more dangerous than a bear or a lion. You'll have to be ready to defend yourself, no matter what. It is then when you decide whether to pull the trigger or not."
Rhénee looked at her father and she felt tears swell up in her eyes as she turned to look at the deer, leisurely eating without a clue in the world. She felt Ryan's hand around hers give a gentle squeeze. Before she could utter a word, a loud sound came from the gun.
***
"Rhénee?"
Rhénee turned to look at Kevin seated beside her. She must have phased out for a bit as she felt everyone's eyes on her.
"Are you okay, dear?" Miss Griselda asked who sat on the other couch. She stretched out her hand to hold Rhénee's on her lap.
"I'm fine," said Rhénee, sitting a little upright. She had been leaning on her elbow that rested on the arm of the couch with her hand supporting one side of her face.
"Really?" Miss Griselda looked concerned as she withdrew her hand. "Maybe taking a shower will do you good, dear."
"No, let's get this over with quickly."
"You go take a shower," said Malcom who sat on the opposite couch from Miss Griselda with Greta. "You really need to freshen up."
"And you need to rest too," said Kevin.
Rhénee sighed as she leaned her head back. She knew the others were right. She had had a long day and was worn out completely. Not to mention that all that had taken place bothered her somehow. A good shower will make her feel better. There was no point in arguing with anyone as she didn't have the strength for it. Her body felt like she had just gone through a beating, not to mention her mind too.
She slowly stood up from the couch as she tried to avoid everyone's eyes. She probably looked like a sorry mess and she didn't like to be looked upon that way. It felt a little shameful.
"Should I escort you up?" Greta offered as she passed the coffee table.
"No, Greta, I'm fine," said Rhénee as she turned to look at Greta, giving her a smile and finally walking out of the living room.
The others could clearly hear Rhénee's footsteps as she climbed up the stairs. They didn't speak to one another until the sound of her footsteps faded.
"I hate to see her like this," said Miss Griselda, staring at her hands on her laps. "She just got here and already she's troubled with all this nonsense."
"A lot must have happened back in that forest, huh?" Greta asked, turning to look at her brother.
"A lot, and surprising ones too," said Malcom.
"Then go on ahead and tell us what happened," said Miss Griselda, her sad eyes staring straight at Malcom.
***
It's almost four in the afternoon and Eugene couldn't wait for the day to finally end. Since lunch time, things had been going pretty slow. And with all the work he had to do, he felt the nightmare would never end. Now that it's close to knocking off time, he couldn't wait to finally leave.
He looked at the time on his watch, then went on to look around the work area outside his cubicle. Almost all the other cubicles were empty. It's either some of the associates were with their senior partners in briefing rooms working on cases with their clients or some had simply left the office to attend to some legal matters outside the firm. Madison might be a small town, but just like any other, there were a lot of legal issues to sort out, especially among the rich that found themselves here. But then again, there were the locals and small business enterprises too.
Eugene packed some of his paperwork away on his desk. There were a few papers to run through for the remaining hour. He had never felt this anxious of leaving the office.
Eugene opened a case file in front of him and just when he was about to read through, his phone on his desk, beeped. He didn't like to be disturbed at work, so he hoped it was from somebody important. He turned to look at the phone screen. It was his mother.
He took the phone and quickly left his cubicle. He would have answered the call right there since there weren't a lot of people around, but something told him he needed to be somewhere more private.
He found himself going to the little kitchen on the same floor, and to his luck, there was nobody around. He closed the door behind him and answered the call.
"Hello, mum?"
"Eugene..., thank goodness, I thought you weren't going to pick up," said his mother, she sounded out of breath.
"Are you okay? You sound weird."
"I'm at the hospital. Something terrible has happened."
Eugene now grew worried. "Are you hurt? Is it Albert?"
"No, no, no, I'm fine. Albert is still at school. He's-he's okay. It's your father, Eugene."
Eugene didn't say a word, waiting for his mother to continue. But it seemed she too was waiting for his response, so he asked:
"What's wrong with him? Is he sick?"
"No, it's worse than that, Eugene." Mrs. Chamberlin's voice cracked, like she was about to cry. "He came to the house, and he..., he didn't look too good."
"If he isn't sick, then why come to the house? He shouldn't be bothering you with his problems."
"Eugene, it's bad." He heard his mother gasp, trying to catch a breath. Now he could tell that she's really crying. "I don't think he's going to pull through."
"Mum, mum...., calm down. Tell me what's wrong with him."
"He's been shot, Eugene. Your father's bleeding to death now as we speak."
"What!"
Mrs. Chamberlin sobbed and Eugene couldn't believe what he had just heard. He had to rush to the hospital right away. His mother needed him. But first, he had to take care of his little brother who is probably on his way home from school. He could call the neighbor, Mrs. York to take him in for a while till he and his mother got back. If his father had gone to their house in that state, there probably must be blood around, and that would terrify Albert.
"Okay, mum, just hold on. I'll be there right away," said Eugene, making his way to the door.
"But.., but what about Albert?" Mrs. Chamberlin asked in between sobs. "I don't think it's a good idea that he-"
"I know, mum." Eugene drew the door open and stepped out into the corridor heading back to the work area. "I'll call Mrs. York to take him in until we get back. Don't worry."
"Oh..., yes." His mother sniffed. "I'll call her right now. You just get here quickly, okay?"
"I'll be there," said Eugene as he cut the call. He noticed Mr. Sinclair seated in his cubicle and looking up at him as he approached.
"There you're, Eugene," said Mr. Sinclair, leaning back on the chair. "I was waiting for you. One of your colleagues said that you had gone out to answer the phone."
"Ummm....," Eugene tapped the back of his phone with his free hand nervously, trying to find the right way to tell Mr. Sinclair that he had to leave urgently.
"What's going on?" Mr. Sinclair asked after studying the look on his apprentice's face. "Did something happen at home?"
"Uh..., yes," said Eugene, glad that he didn't have to start the conversation. "My father's in the hospital as we speak."
"That's terrible." Mr. Sinclair now looked concerned as he slowly stood up. "What happened to him?"
Eugene couldn't tell him his father had arrived home with a gunshot wound, not with a few other associates around now listening in on the conversation.
"I'm yet to find out," Eugene answered. "I just know it's bad and I need to get to the hospital immediately."
"I'll take you there," Mr. Sinclair offered as he came out of the cubicle and went round to stand next to Eugene. "You should get your things. You'll find me outside with the car."
"Thank you, Mr. Sinclair."
Mr. Sinclair shook his head, giving Eugene a smile. "Family is family, no matter the circumstances."
Mr. Sinclair patted his apprentice on the shoulder before making his way out of the work area. Mr. Sinclair knew about the crisis within the Chamberlin family, and Eugene felt very much grateful for his support even when the situation between his father and mother got serious. Eugene quickly went in his cubicle and started to pack away his things. He didn't notice a fellow colleague approach until he spoke.
"Umm..., Eugene." Eugene looked up and saw Willy, also an associate, with a concerned look on his face. "We couldn't help but overhear. We really hope this thing with your father isn't serious and that he makes a speedy recovery."
"Thank you, Willy," said Eugene, and turning to look at the other few colleagues. "Thank you, everyone."
Everybody else gave Eugene their kind remarks. As soon as he was done packing, he quickly left the work area and found himself in the elevator, heading for the ground floor.
He soon found himself outside the building and Mr. Sinclair's Ferrari was there waiting, with the owner behind the wheel, the engine hot and running.
Eugene got into the passenger's seat and made sure to put the seatbelt on. He didn't like the fact that his father had arrived at the house with a gunshot wound. He would simply have gone to the hospital himself and not bother his poor mother, who might be on a verge of a heart attack. As the car drove away from the building, Eugene couldn't help but wonder what his father had gotten himself into. He always knew his father has been up to no good for a long time. After he abandoned them, Eugene never bothered to know what he did anymore. But now, he wished he had.
"Whatever is wrong with your father," said Mr. Sinclair breaking the silence between them, "he'll pull through. It might not seem like it, but he's strong in his own way."
"I hope so," said Eugene. He thought about what he wanted to say next. Should he tell Mr. Sinclair about his father's condition? They weren't in the office anymore and he felt he couldn't bear the heavy burden he was feeling deep down.
"Eugene? Are you okay?" Mr. Sinclair asked as he gave him a brief glance before bringing his eyes back onto the road. They were now passing through the town centre.
Eugene found himself swallowing his own saliva. He couldn't understand what's happening to him right now, but he couldn't keep this inside him any longer.
"My mum told me he came at the house with a gunshot wound," Eugene said.
Mr. Sinclair didn't say anything and Eugene turned to look at him, wondering why the lawyer hadn't said a word. Maybe he was trying to focus on the road and not cause another tragedy for Mrs. Chamberlin. His face showed no emotion.
Eugene looked out the window. He licked his lips and noticed they were dry. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything to Mr. Sinclair. What would he think of his father? Eugene wasn't sure what to think as well after he had heard the news.
"Was he in a hunting accident?" Mr. Sinclair finally asked after stopping the car in front of the traffic lights that had suddenly turned red.
"I-" Eugene let out a breath before continuing, "I don't know. I bet my mum doesn't know either and it's driving her just as crazy."
The lights soon turned green and the Ferrari raced down the street. They were almost near the main hospital.
"I bet it isn't," said Mr. Sinclair. Eugene turned to look at him. "I mean, a hunting accident. He couldn't have shot himself, that's for sure."
"I hope he won't use that lie on me," said Eugene. "He's good at that. Always has."
"He must have been with someone for that to actually happen," said Mr. Sinclair, slowly turning round the corner, passing a boutique store. "But then, he would have gone straight to the hospital instead of your house."
"Something doesn't feel right about this. I just know it."
The hospital soon came into view and the Ferrari drove into the premises, stopping right in front of the hospital main doors.
"Go on, right ahead," said Mr. Sinclair. "I'll park the car and join you soon."
"You've no idea how grateful I am for your help," said Eugene as he turned to look at Mr. Sinclair.
"No need, just go."
Eugene opened the door and stepped out of the car. He quickly rushed for the open doors of the hospital and went inside the lobby. Mr. Sinclair went on ahead to park his car in the hospital's parking lot. He parked beside a brown sedan and switched off the car's engine. Before getting out, he pulled out his phone and called one of his contacts.
"Hello," a female voice answered at the other end.
"When were you going to tell me that one of the casualties would be no other than Chamberlin?" Mr. Sinclair asked.
"Ah...," the woman sounded amused. "So, you've heard? That was pretty fast. I was planning for it to be a surprise."
"Eugene was way ahead of you," Mr. Sinclair made sure to close the windows of his Ferrari before stepping out.
"I should have known."
"I escorted him to the hospital. I want to know how he's doing." He soon got out of the car, closed the door and locked it.
"Are you sure? For someone who knows what's going on, being sympathetic makes you look like you're playing around, Sinclair."
He started to walk away from his car, placing the keys in his pocket. "You do know I still care about the Chamberlins."
"Except Robert, of course."
"He and I haven't been on the best of terms. And I don't mean this thing with him and the family."
"I know. You shouldn't see him in the state that he's in. Something tells me you might laugh in his face."
"That's if he dies. I'm yet to know his condition, mind you. Those kids might as well have put him on his deathbed."
"I wouldn't celebrate so soon. He's a tough ox, that one."
Mr. Sinclair drew closer to the front door of the hospital. "I know. Let's hope he does pull through."
Something caught the corner of his eye behind the glasses he wore. He turned his head towards the hospital's main gate and he noticed a black BMW, before it sped down the road.
"I'll call you back. I'm going in to see the family."
"Later, then."
Mr. Sinclair stopped by the ramp in front of the doors, putting his phone back in the pocket. He looked back at the main gate. He had a feeling that there was someone in that car that he had to be wary of. Was someone looking out for Robert Chamberlin or was Sinclair being followed?
He didn't dwell on that as he entered the hospital, finding himself in the lobby. He knows he's got enemies. A lot of them. And right now, there's one he had to check on.
"Excuse me," Mr. Sinclair said to the nurse receptionist by her desk as he approached. The young lady looked up at him with her huge blue eyes.
"Yes, sir, how may I help you?" she asked, giving him a friendly smile.
"I'm looking for a patient, Robert Chamberlin."
"Oh, yes. He's currently in the operation room as we speak, but you can join the family in the waiting room on this side of the wing."
The nurse pointed to the right, Mr. Sinclair's left in actual sense. He smiled gratefully to the nurse and went to find the other two Chamberlins.
He found them seated together on the plastic bench chairs. Eugene sat right next to his mother who looked downcast, her hands on her laps. He leaned against her, whispering in her ear. Mr. Sinclair slowly approached them and sat on the chair opposite theirs.
Eugene looked at him, acknowledging the lawyer's presence.
Mr. Sinclair cleared his throat as he turned to look at Mrs. Chamberlin and asked, "how are you coping, Ruth?"
Mrs. Chamberlin slowly looked up at Mr. Sinclair. Her eyes looked bloodshot from all the crying. Her brown mousy hair was tied into a bun and a few strands of her hair fell from all sides, giving it a messy look. It looked like she had been too busy to even care, when it's probably due to others reasons. Like her husband's misfortune, for example.
She sniffed before she replied, "I'm good, Mr. Sinclair. I'm good."
"I'm sorry to hear about Robert. Eugene told me he came by the house with a gunshot wound."
"Yes, he..., he did." She motioned Eugene to give her the box of tissue lying on the chair beside him. Eugene obliged and gave it to his mother, who took it, laid it on her lap and pulled out a tissue. She used it to blow her nose.
"Sorry about that," she said as she threw the used tissue into the small paper waste bin on the floor beside her.
"That's okay," Mr. Sinclair gave her a sincere look, ignoring the tissue. "Why did he come by the house? Why not go to the hospital?"
Ruth shrugged her shoulders. She looked like an old rag doll. "I don't know. Everything kind of happened so fast. I hear a loud banging at the door and when I open it, I see him there holding his bloodied arm. He had been shot in the shoulder. I asked him what happened, but all he said was that I should help him and not take him to the hospital. But he already lost a lot of blood and he soon passed out at the door. I had no choice but to call the ambulance."
"Mmm." Mr. Sinclair slowly nodded his head. Calling the ambulance to bring Robert to the hospital has put him at risk. He obviously didn't want the attention of the police as it is a must for the hospital to report gunshot incidences. He wondered how Robert will get out of this one.
"I just hope he's condition isn't so serious," said Eugene.
"I hope so too," said Ruth as she took in a breath and almost let out a sob, but controlled herself. "He lost a lot of blood."
"He'll be fine," said Mr. Sinclair. "As far as I know, he's strong. He'll pull through."
"Thank you for your kind words, George." Ruth giving Mr. Sinclair a smile.
Mr. Sinclair soon stood up from his seat. "I know I should stay, but I still have some things to take care of at the office."
"Oh, no, it's okay. Let us not keep you here with our problems."
"Don't say that, Ruth. You know how much I care about you and your family." He came forward to place his hand on Ruth's shoulder. "As soon as I am done, I'll come over to check on how he's doing."
"Sure," Ruth nodded, looking hopefully at him.
"You take care of your mother, Eugene," said Mr. Sinclair.
"Yes," said Eugene. "And thank you for all you've done for me, Mr. Sinclair."
"Don't mention it. Right now, lets just hope that your father gets through this."
"Of course."
Mr. Sinclair gave both mother and son a smile as he slowly backed away and took his leave. As soon as he walked out of the waiting area and headed for the main door, he pulled out his phone to make a call.
The person on the other line soon picked up.
"Sinclair," came a breathy voice. "Haven't heard from you in a while. I thought you had no use for me anymore."
Mr. Sinclair chuckled as he stepped out of the hospital and headed for the car in the parking lot. "You're always so dramatic, aren't you?"
"What can I do for you?"
"Hiding your feelings, huh?" He stopped a few feet away from his Ferrari. "The only reason why I haven't been in contact with you is because I have been saving you to do something very important."
"And you want me to do it now?"
Mr. Sinclair smiled. "Yes. And I think you'll enjoy it."
There was a pause on the line before the voice came again. "Who does it involve?"
"Can't talk here," said Mr. Sinclair as he made his way to the car door and opened it. "Let's meet tonight. The same place and time as usual."
"This better be worth it, Sinclair."
"Oh, it will." He soon went inside the car. "Just be there."
"If you insist." A cracking sound came from the other end and the line went dead.
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWmmY786dHn
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6XXIdGmBUT
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoQA9EJiAHT
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFVsXIF8a0a
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3SyvZkrOyu
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ70PGWGL5S3
473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTnaLYdrsHb
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3JoTCN2rwA
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpbHI65z5sP
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473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ29eVI61WB
473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡICbaGBSWU7
473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHGWBSKEQFn
473Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIhzKiqJWqv
Mr. Sinclair put his phone aside on the empty passenger seat. Before he could start the car, his mind wandered off for a bit, thinking of Robert, then Rhénee. This whole situation seemed to be spinning out of control already. He had to do something about it and make his stand. But first, he had Mrs. Derrand to deal with.
ns 15.158.61.50da2
