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She requested the release of Bobbie Bray’s remains to herself - if they weren’t claimed by next of kin

- so that she could arrange for their burial. Quietly.

Somebody should do it," she stated aloud.

She got her coffee, rolled her aching shoulders. Then headed back to work.

* * *

In Number Twelve, there was silence in the dark. No one sang, or wept or laughed. No one walked there.

For the first time in eighty-five years, Number Twelve sat empty.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com