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Rated: 18+ · Folder · Other · #1988614
“’Please don’t tell anyone, she said.’” the old man on the couch was agitated.
“Who said that, Mr. Aames?” the therapist asked.
“She did, that Linda.”
“Linda who?”
“I never knew her last name. But she lived in that run-down apartment block across the street. The place is an eyesore, but hard as I tried I couldn’t get it condemned,” the thin, bony man complained.
The therapist realizing he was about to go off on another tangent, expertly reined him in.
“When did this Linda ask you not to tell?’
“When I found her in my back garden, leaning against my old apple tree. She was bruised and bleeding and her clothes were torn and dirty. I wanted to get her some help, that’s when she asked me not to tell.”
“What did you think when you saw her like that?”
“I didn’t know what to think. Now I wished I hadn’t promised!” The old man was almost in tears.
“Why is that?”
“They found her, didn’t they? On that overgrown back road outside of town.”
“Are you talking about that Jane Doe that’s all over the news? What makes you think it is her?”
“Where else would they have put her after taking her from my house?”
“So you brought her into your place. Why?”
“I was trying to keep her safe. But somebody broke in that night and when I went to check on her, the door was open and she was gone!”
“You need to make a statement to the police, Mr. Aames!”
“I can’t. I promised.”
Back in his room at the Home, Denver Aames smiled slyly. The only secret he was keeping was who really attacked and killed Linda Fallon. That one he would take to his grave. If she would let him!
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