15
Adam sat in the living room, waiting for the dryer to finish. He gazed at his feet propped on the coffee table and felt absent Iris’s disapproval. JJ and I did jigsaw puzzles on that coffee table in winter, he thought. They were always missing a piece, and once she accused me of eating them.
Luther had left an hour or so ago, probably tired of hearing himself speak since Adam’s throat was too raw for chit-chat. Or maybe the man was just plain tired. He didn’t look good, even if you ignored the black eye. Luther hadn’t given many details on how he’d gotten his injuries, but Adam doubted Luther knew them. He’d logged enough hours as a bartender to recognize when alcohol and an explosive temper resulted in amnesia of one sort or another.
Was that why Adam hadn’t told Luther about his dr
