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She ignores it.
Before too long, she hears the crunch of gravel right behind her. She turns.
The Cadillac—its four headlights staring at her like a giant bug—gleams in the bright mid-afternoon light, the white top so pristine it looks like freshly fallen snow. The driver’s door opens. A slim, middle-aged man steps out. He’s wearing a suit, charcoal gray, and a thin matching tie.