63
Luther had decided, about a mile back, that he hadn’t slept enough to deal with all the damn noise from Pop’s machine. He hadn’t slept at all, come to think of it. He could imagine the vehicle being fun on a summer day when you were tanked up and didn’t know any better, but not in the cold and the dark when you were on Sheriff’s business. This was like some kind of torture, the constant vibration when your brain knew damn well it should be in bed.
That’s why Luther almost didn’t believe his eyes when he saw a flash of light above them. He tapped Leslie’s arm, but his brother had seen it, too.
The light disappeared behind a loop in the trail.
Wait, there it was again; it must be JJ and Adam. Les slowed down, and soon there was nothing but a straight stretch of fifty yards or so betwe
