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There is a small yellow backpack, contents strewn around it, abandoned on a suburban footpath. There are tyre tracks coming to an end at a crippled stop sign. Anyone walking past can feel the prickle on the back of their neck that tells them something happened here: a vehicle careening to a halt, a child’s backpack left in a hurry. Then they see two words, hastily scrawled on the sidewalk. Written in blood. FIND US Contents Cover About the Book Title Page Dedication