Jack kilborn SErial blakE crouch

Jack kilborn SErial blakE crouch
“Yeah. You want anything?”
“if they have any gum that isn’t older than i am, pick
me up a pack. i’ve got an odd taste in my mouth for some
reason.”
lucy got out of the car. Donaldson opened the glove
compartment and quickly shoved something into his coat
pocket. Then he set the parking brake, pocketed the keys, and
followed her out.
While Donaldson stood pumping gas into the honda,
lucy walked across the oil-stained pavement and into
the store. The clerk didn’t acknowledge her entrance, just
sat staring at a small black-and-white television airing
Jeopardy, her chin propped up in her hand and a Marlboro
red with a one-inch ash trailing smoke toward the ceiling.
lucy walked down the aisle to the back of the store and
picked a red bull out of the refrigerated case. at the drink
fountain, she went with the smallest size—sixteen ounces—
and filled the cup with ice to the brim, followed by a little
Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew, Pepsi, and orange Fanta.
She glanced back toward the entrance and through the
windows. Donaldson was still fussing with the pump. She
reached into her pocket and withdrew the syringe. uncap-
ped the needle, shot a super-size squirt of liquid oxycontin
into the bubbling soda.
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