In the Tercel, Friday drove. Harry sat beside her, his hat on the seat beside him.
“Cotton’s gun,” Harry said. “You should have taken it when you had the chance.”
“You sound angry,” Friday said.
Harry didn’t answer.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you angry,” Friday said.
“It’s the first time I’ve been in this kind of trouble,” Harry said.
“What kind of trouble?” Friday said.
“Real trouble,” Harry said.
“Oh,” Friday said, “real…”