“You’re wrong,” rasped the frail spinster, “dead wrong. Think you’ll get rich by listening to me ramble on about my life…” Her voice broke, as the dry desperate cough of a dying woman convulsed through her body.
Kaat Kees squeezed the woman’s hand, thin skin wrinkled over brittle bones. Outside, thieves circled like wolves ready to pounce at the first opportunity. They could smell her vulnerability. The old woman had what they wanted. Kaat shivered. Over my dead body.
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