24
Adam was amazed how calm his voice sounded, at least to his own ears. Maybe there was an advantage to having to work so hard to force speech from his aching throat. He couldn’t really see the knife—not to make out any details—but in his mind he could see Luther’s blood, bathing the vehicle. And him helpless to stop it.
He pushed the gruesome image away and continued, “You should put the knife down. This may not be the best neighborhood, but they are coming up on their busy time across the street. And I’d think the last thing a fugitive would want is attention.”
Dark as it was in the car, the whites of Luther’s eyes still showed over-large, and Adam bet he was sweating. The dry heat blowing from the vents against his own face made his skin crawl. “Virgil,” Adam said, his voice a low w
