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“Please Trust Me,” the Driver Said as He Hid Me in the Trunk on My Son’s Wedding Day.

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his face instantly. “Oh god. She’s really doing it.”

Inside the modest living room, the little girl played with a dollhouse, humming softly. Brett Collins told me everything—how they’d gotten into debt from medical bills after their daughter’s premature birth, how a man named Randall Turner had loaned them money at predatory rates, how Natasha had researched continue reading …

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