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When Luther and Virgil returned to the car, Adam woke long enough to point out Luther’s sandwich (Adam had gotten it from the server before leaving the cafe). The men were tense, and Adam felt certain they’d been arguing. But as soon as the vehicle was in motion, Adam was out again. His dreams were fractured and unrelenting, fleeting visions he could never quite grasp. Voices called his name, some threatening and some reassuring, but never clearly enough for him to follow or answer.
He bolted upright, heart pounding, when the SUV stopped. He couldn’t remember the last image he’d seen in his mind, but he couldn’t shake its influence either, like a bad hangover.
“Good timing,” Luther said. “You need a Coke or something?”
Adam blinked and peered forward between the seats. They’d stoppe
