As the man got into the car, Enid again looked at his face, this time, recognition dawning on her. “Oh, I know you!” she said, giggling.
The man smiled at Enid as he reached behind her seat and pulled out a paper cup and a bottle of wine. He poured the wine into the paper cup and added a small pill. “The wine is a 1945 Merlot. The date rape drug is a 1995 roofie,” he said, handing her the cup. “It was an excellent year.”
Enid accepted the cup and pounded back the wine. “You’re Bruce Patman,” she said, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.
“Something like that,” he said, turning the key in the ignition as Enid slipped into darkness. Crackies everywhere