Chapter Eighty
Once up the spiral staircase, Mal hesitated as he held the slight girl over his shoulder. Remembering the Fax, and how important it was to everything, he decided taking care of the girl, one way or another for his interest in her was paramount to him, was more important.
Turning left, he passed the kitchen and moved across the darkened loft directly to the bathroom.
Stepping inside and as if he were handling a rare, fragile jewel, he un hinged the mumbling waif from his shoulder and laid her onto the black tile floor.
If she weighed ninety pounds, she weighed a ton he thought and at five-foot six, she was nothing but skin and bones. Her white hair was stained with alley-filth as was her once pale blue sweatshirt. Her filthy white sweat pants were gorged with blood below
