“I think on that particular day,” Adam began, almost losing his grip on Lilith's legs, “that it was me who did the arse-saving by shooting him, although it was more luck than judgement. And that book needed to be written – how was I to know this was going to happen?”
Sam nodded and smiled. “Trust a reporter to f**k things up for everyone.” He offered Adam a wink which took any sting out of the sentence. “Book or no book,” he continued, walking backward down the crumbling concrete path leading to the garage, “they'd have found us.”
Shuffling along, Sam reached the door first. He partially rested the body on the ground and reached back, opening the door. The dark interior of the garage smelt of dust and old oil, and cobwebs hung from the cracked timber beams.
“Put her over by the wood pil
