Even knowing this is what her father wanted, what she wanted, Zachary wasn’t sure he could do it. He loved Deborah very much and he believed she still adored him. It was only because of their love for each other that he was now walking across the manicured lawn in the back of his estate in the bright morning sunshine contemplating murder.
No, it wouldn’t be murder for the simple reason that she was already dead; dead, interned, and yet not dead.
The small duffel bag felt heavy in his right hand, not because of the weight of its lethal contents but that of his heart. He’s almost accepted Peretz’s offer to help him, but it would have been a terrible burden to place upon a father who had lost his only daughter once and now was about to lose her again. Yes, he was losing her, but he had convinced him that as her husband, he had to be the one to save her.
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