The Blackwater Protocol
The first thing I noticed was the hair. Not a few strands in the shower drain—chunks of it, dark and damp and tangled, lying in the bottom of the sink like something dead. Marie was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in her bathrobe and she wasn't crying. She was just watching me look at the hair, and her eyes were flat and she looked like a woman who had already heard the worst news of her...
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