69
Adam sat in the back of a Watkins County car, shivering, wrapped in a blanket and wearing a stranger’s clothes. He didn’t think he was under arrest, but at the moment he didn’t care.
The clothes came from the person who’d nearly run him over. Adam didn’t know the man’s name—his hearing was half shot and he couldn’t seem to keep the garbled words in his head—but his Good Samaritan was a Steelers fan, according to the towel and gym clothes he’d loaned Adam. He’d changed while leaning against the man’s pickup by the side of the road, not bothered whether he put on a show for the passersby. Then he’d waited in the man’s truck, heat blasting, until the first uniformed officers arrived on the scene. They weren’t able to tell him anything about Harlan’s status, but they did give him a blanke
