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‘I’ve always wanted to live this high, dear. I knew not what it was to live amongst the birds, to view the rest of humankind in miniature, cars laid out as if part of a child’s toy set. I hope you can understand , now I’ve experienced bliss, there can be nothing more for me on this Earth. Yours always, George.’

Susan read the note her husband had left for her before he’d disappeared. Before they’d found his smashed body near the bins of Rosewell House, the 30-storey block of flats where they’d lived for the past three years.

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