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Adam gave Harlan a quick overview of each of the three dreams about Rachel—her kidnapping, the scene with the man she’d called daddy, and when Adam had nearly died in the shower. The final one clearly unnerved the older man. Harlan didn’t bother hiding the bourbon he added to his own mug, roughly one-to-one with the French Roast, when he topped up their coffee.
“Tell me more about the scene with the man, daddy. What did he look like?” Harlan asked, closing his eyes.
“I told you I didn’t see him.”
“You didn’t see him, or she didn’t see him?”
Adam stammered, “I didn’t see him.”
Harlan said, “Are you sure? There is a difference, you know.”
Adam sipped his coffee, followed the bitter taste over his tongue, felt an ache in his ribs as he swallowed before the liquid ran down his throat
