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Bruce sat outside a crappy apartment building, a hundred and fifty miles from Cold Springs and about twenty from the boy. It was good to have some distance from the kid. He’d tried using him to contact Adam again, with no better success. Either he was missing something, or Virgil was wrong about Adam. Bruce knew he just needed to be patient, but patience didn’t come easily to him. It was also getting harder to get the dosage right, to keep the boy both compliant and breathing. Ultimately though, he might have to kill the boy, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He didn’t like killing kids.
But the world doesn’t stop spinning when things aren’t going your way. A man’s still gotta make a living.
He got out of his vehicle and knocked lightly on the cheap door of the ground floor unit,
