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At the security station in the lobby, he told the thin, balding guard on duty, "I wonder if you've seen my guest, Abby Wynne. She's a pretty woman with light brown hair. She's wearing blue jeans, a white shirt, and" |
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"The one I saw on your floor the other day when the elevator broke down?" |
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Mike nodded. "That's the one." |
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"Yeah. She met some guy here. They went that way." He pointed down the street. |
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Mike frowned. As far as he knew, Abby didn't know anybody here. "Thanks." He exited the building and walked down the street in the direction the guard had indicated. |
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The air was heavy and hot, making Mike aware of his own respiration. He recalled the bee sting incident earlier that day: his fear as his throat had constricted and his breathing had grown nearly impossible. He took a deep breath now, simply because he could. |
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And then he stopped walking abruptly, sucking in his breath. Inside the coffee cafe next door to his building he saw, through the large plate-glass window, Abby Wynne, having an intimate tete-a-tete with Philip Rousseau. Philip, who had been Dixie's brother. Who had threatened Mike just before someone had tampered with the elevator in his building. Who wanted money from Mike, maybe even Arlen's Kitchens. |
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Abby knew Philip. She'd known Mike's connection to Arlen's Kitchens even out in the desert. And now she was feeding him a ridiculous story about being a time traveler. |
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