i or train.
They found Ann Margaret inside the vast white blood-donation center, sitting in a tiny office doing paperwork. The desk looked makeshift, the plastic chairs utilitarian. Industrial metal bookcases and gray metal filing cabinets.
The woman fit the office. Short
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At their approach
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"What is it?" she asked sharply, as if part of her had been expecting bad news for quite some time. "What happened?"
"We'd like to ask you some questions about Melanie Stokes," David said.
The lines of her face turned to confusion. Apparently the presence of FBI agents didn't surprise her
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David motioned to two yellow plastic chairs. "May we?"
Ann Margaret was too well mannered to refuse, so he and Chenney took a seat.
"I don't understand what you need to know about Melanie," Ann Margaret said, setting down her pen. "She's not even scheduled to work today."
"She's volunteered here for a wyilai:
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