Chapter 45Warpath Journal: Dateline: New Justice, New MexicoI can't figure this guy out.
We're halfway out the door of the ranch house when Brother Quincy slips his bonds. Turns out whoever tied the rope around his wrists didn't do such a great job.
But something isn't right. For one thing, Quincy's eyes are rolled up in the sockets, so all I see under fluttering lids are the whites.
Then there's the follow-up. Does Quincy lash out, grab a weapon, make a run for it?
No way. What he does is stuff his fat fingers in the pocket of his vest and yank out a black magic marker. Rope still dangling from his wrist, he flicks off the cap...then dives at me, holding up the marker like it's a knife.
I duck out of the way, and Quincy keeps going. Next thing I know, he's writing on the wall
