They bagged a terpin hydrate still. The owner killed himself at the Lincoln Heights Jail. She filched a dozen terp vials from Don Matsura’s apartment. She wanted to experience the effect. She consumed two vials in the back room at Lyman’s. She entered a vivid dream state. She saw forest fires near Tomah, Wisconsin. She shotgunned a drunken Indian. She woke up on the couch. Dudley Smith looked down at her. He said, “Hello, lass.
