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- in which case, it'd be a bargain. - There were no guns.
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- I needed a job. Donny needed cash. - For what?
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He didn't say, and I didn't care.
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Beckett.
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I was right about the blunt force trauma.
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A single blow caved in the ridge here
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along Donny's squamosal suture.
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And whatever did the damage was kind enough
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to leave this shard of red glass embedded in his skull.
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Maybe a heavy vase or a bottle?
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I'll have forensics take a look at it,
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see if they can find a match.