“Yeah, he had a collection too. And I took it away from him and threw it in the river.” “Threw it in the river?” said Helmholtz. “Yeah,” said Quinn. “Eight knives—some with blades as long as your hand.” Helmholtz paled. “Oh.” A prickling sensation spread over the back of his neck. “This is a new problem at Lincoln High. I hardly know what to think about it.” He swept spilled salt together in a neat little pile, just as he would have liked to sweep together his scattered thoughts. “It’s a kind of sickness, isn’t it? That’s the way to look at it?” “Sick?” said Quinn. He slapped the table. “You
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