Amy Clark

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She crashed her way into the wood, following the familiar path, leaping over nettles and roots, passing familiar trees – And in the BMW, Strike saw her coming. Throwing aside the night vision goggles and picking up the foot-long wire cutters, he left the car at a run. He’d got through three strands of barbed wire when Robin screamed, ‘They’re coming, they’re coming, help me—’ He reached over the wall and dragged her with him; her tracksuit bottoms tore on the remaining wire, but she was out onto the road.
The Running Grave (Cormoran Strike, #7)
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