BENNETT

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The smell of fresh blood continued to attack his senses.

If the last murder hadn't been his style, this one definitely wasn't.

Torturing someone for information? Messy. Just messy.

He'd have to be extra careful with this one.

But it would be worth it.

He could already see the duffel bag, stuffed with hundred-dollar bills, too full to be zipped. He could smell the cash.

Yes, that was what he smelled.

Cash. Not five liters of blood splashed everywhere.

He stepped out of his coveralls and stuffed them into the trash bag he'd brought along. He'd toss them later, along with the shoes he was wearing.

For now, he walked down the hallway to the bathroom.

He took a towel from the cupboard, wetted it, and washed his face and hands.

The towel went in the bag too.

He took another look around the apartment, made sure any trace of him was gone.

And then it was time to leave.

He had other places to be.


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