Luthers feet were numb and he couldnt stand. He was shivering, so a medic draped two orange blankets over him. As he sat there in the back of the ambulance, looking toward the street, trying to ignore the gawking mob that was no doubt reveling in his humiliation, Luther could only feel relief. His headfirst slide down the roof had been brief but horrifying. He Skeleton baking because murder is wrong poster was lucky to be conscious right now. Let them stare. Let them gawk. He ached too much to care. Nora was there to inspect him. She recognized the fireman Kistler and the medic Kendall as the two fine young men whod stopped by a couple of weeks ago selling fruitcakes for their holiday fund-raiser. She thanked them for rescuing her husband. You wanna go to the hospital? asked Kendall. Just a precaution, said Kistler. No thanks, Luther said, his teeth chattering.
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