The knock on the door was soft but steady. Pierce looked up from the papers spread across the whole table. “We’re not expecting anyone,” he muttered. Rosa, sitting nearby with a blanket wrapped around her, looked uneasy. “It’s her,” she whispered, without knowing why. Nicolas stood in the corner, arms folded, eyes on the floor. His whole body tensed at the sound. The knock came again, sharper this time. “I’ll get it,” Pierce said as he walked towards the door. He opened the door. A tall woman who had long brown curly hair, wearing a. Black flowing gown with loads of beads on her neck and barefoot, stood up smiling at him with her brown old teeth. “Good morning,” she said softly. “You must be Pierce.” Pierce blinked, looking at her. “Who are you?. You?” “My name is Melissa,” she said, stepping into the doorway. “I heard about the elderly deaths. I’ve come to help.” Nicolas raised his head, eyes locking on Melissa. There was something familiar about this woman. Like he had kn
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