Chapter 6 - The Key Under the Tongue
Mark took three quick steps forward, kneeling beside his brother's chair. "Shut up. Don't talk. I'm calling an ambulance."
"No!" John grabbed Mark's wrist with surprising strength, his fingers slick with sweat and red grit. "Listen to me. The call... on Vance's phone. That was supposed to be for me."
"Why did Vance have pictures of Sam?" Mark demanded, his voice cracking. "Why were you at his car?"
John’s eyes rolled back for a fraction of a second before he forced them open again. He reached up with a trembling, blood-stained hand and tapped his own jaw.
"In... inside," John choked out.
Mark stared at him, stomach churning. "What?"
"Under... tongue."
John’s chin dropped to his chest. His grip on Mark’s wrist went limp, his hand dropping heavily onto the carpet.
"John?"
No answer.
Mark pressed two shaking fingers against his brother’s neck.
For one terrible second, he felt nothing.
Then tires crunched over the gravel parking lot outside.
A car door slammed.
Then another.
Mark had no time to check again.
May you like
He looked at his brother’s motionless face, swallowed down a wave of nausea, bent over, and forced John’s mouth open.
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