He wasn’t ready to give up though.‘Hey, Louise,’ he said. She turned around and raised her eyebrows.‘I was serious about wanting to work with ...ou. If you want it too we should make it happen.’‘I don’t know, Carlos,’ she said. ‘We both know where it would lead to and I’m still not sure if that’s a good idea.’With that, she left him, the Cuban sculptor, who had been Mister Cool on the boat but was now looking up at her like a lost puppy. A puppy with a cock that put a donkey to shame though. On. I entered the house and saw the man asleep in his bed and took the putter and bashed him in the head hard several times. Had put gloves on before I entered his yard and house. This man kidnaped and raped girls, mostly teenagers but some small girls. His head was crushed and he lay there dead; I washed the head of the putter on the sink and wiped it clean with a sponge he had there. There was a large wooden coat rack by his bedroom door; I picked it up and smashed it into the wall, tearing the. He was away, working up north, so they wouldn't be missed, nor would the half dozen porn DVDs she'd also misappropriated.Katie had strolled into Jay and Jamie's room the previous Monday morning before breakfast and emptied her huge handbag onto Jay's bed. "Here you go, here's something for the weekend." She quipped."Fucking hell Katie, that's awesome, this stuff will make the party go with a swing, are you sure it won't be missed and get you in trouble?" Asked Jay. "Nah, none of it'll be. Clair – and Missy Paxton, her whiny ex-roommate – Peyton couldn’t. Thanks to her debt of college loans and her own pride, Peyton was firmly fixated here in this large, restless city far from her friends and family wedged up in the foggy fishing village of Hamish, Maine. Peyton plopped herself down into her uncomfortable rolling chair in her tiny, boring cubicle and let out a long-winded sigh. No, Peyton told herself, she couldn’t leave. She was stuck. But maybe Peyton wouldn’t have to worry.