Recollection began to come back. It wasn’t a lumpy mattress he was
lying on, it was a dead man—a man called Midnight Mike. ...
His
pain-filled mind curled in terror. It threw him two years back in
time—before he was sent to jail—to another black night. Only that time
the body had belonged to a little boy, crushed and broken beneath Jim’s
car. And Jim had been behind the wheel.
He’d been told about that
first killing so often that he could almost see himself doing it. But
Mike’s body beside him convinced Jim that he hadn’t killed the little
boy. He hadn’t killed Mike tonight, either. It was only a matter of time
before he remembered the crucial detail that would clear him of both
murders. But time, like the blood that poured from his wounded head, was
fast running out. …