The Killing Kind
She was seventeen years old, a beautiful girl with a Hollywood smile and luminous brown eyes. Sprawled in a culvert just off the gravel road like an abandoned doll, she wore only toe socks, a sweatshirt, and a necklace. She was not the killer's first victim. Nor would she be the last. The lush, green hills that mark the border of North and South Carolina are home to a close knit community. When the savaged remains of high spirited Heather Cattert...
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