By 8:30 PM on Thursday, the city of Boston, the media circus on Commonwealth Avenue, and the echoes of federal courtrooms had faded into a distant, peaceful memory. Thomas's dark green Range Rover turned off the winding coastal highway onto a private, unpaved gravel lane that snaked through dense groves of sea-scented pitch pines and grey granite boulders on the remote northern tip of Cape Ann. The headlights cut through…
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