The Beast of Bayou Isle
The Beast of Bayou Isle The water was knee-deep and smelled like rust when Al Beaumont stepped onto the island. He was thirteen, dark-skinned and slight, with the kind of alert stillness that comes from growing up in a neighborhood where standing out gets you noticed in ways you do not want. Behind him, the swamp stretched in every direction—an endless expanse of green water and hanging moss...
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