I climbed into the rear seat, the cold vinyl sticking to my trousers.

Adrian sat in the front passenger seat, while Miller got behind the wheel.

Miller pulled a small black case from under his seat and opened it.

Inside were several wires, adhesive patches, and a small transmitter no larger than a matchbox.

“Strip your shirt,” Miller said to Adrian.

Adrian unbuttoned his heavy dark coat, then his flannel shirt.

His skin was pale in the dim light of the dashboard.

I saw the faded scar on his shoulder from five years ago, a constant reminder of the life I had tried to escape.

Miller peeled the backing off an adhesive strip and pressed the microphone to the center of Adrian’s chest.

“Test it,” Miller said into his earpiece.

A static hiss filled the car, followed by the sound of Adrian’s steady breathing.

“It’s live,” a voice said through Miller’s earpiece.

Adrian buttoned his shirt back up, concealing the wires completely.

He turned around in his seat to look at me.

His dark eyes were tired, surrounded by deep shadows that hadn’t been there a year ago.