The Moonstone of Bayou Rouge
The swamp does not forgive. It does not forget. It simply waits, in the humid dark, for whatever comes next. Ellis LeBlanc arrived in Bayou Rouge with nothing but a duffel bag, a pocketful of crumpled bills, and a letter from his mother that he had not opened. His brother had inherited the family plantation—the land, the house, the name. Ellis had inherited a note that said, in his father's...
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