Chapters (95)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by David Swinson
- Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
“What does he deal?”
“Crack, powder, K2, weed.”
“Where does he get it from?”
“The boys on Riggs.”
“How long have you had this working relationship with Officer Jasper?”
“I don’t know. Six months maybe?”
I take another swig from my sport bottle.
“You want a bit of this in a glass?” I ask.
“No, thank you. I don’t drink,” he says, knowing that it’s some kind of liquor. Maybe the wince on my face after gave it up. It’s almost funny, but I don’t let him see me smile. I go to the bathroom, grab a drinking glass off the sink, return, set the glass on the table to use as an ashtray, and sit back down.
I light up a cigarette.
“There’s no smoking in this room.”
“Now, that’s funny, considering what you’ve been smoking up.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, sir.”
“And enough with that ‘sir’ shit.”
I need a bump myself. I’m starting to fade out here. I’m not about to reveal that side of me to this guy, though, as much as I’m starting to like him, maybe even feel sorry for him. But my insides are starting to ache—like an empty stomach, but radiating through your whole body. I know he’s feeling the same, or probably worse.
He looks at me, expecting more. I stamp the cigarette out on the bottom of the glass and pick up the handcuffs again.
“I have to take a piss,” I say. “Lean forward.”
“I’m not going to try to escape.”
“I don’t know you,” I say, like it’s a threat.
He leans forward, and I cuff his hands behind his back. I pick up my pack and enter the bathroom but leave the door open. I turn the water faucet on to muffle the noise.
“Don’t turn around, ’cause I can’t piss when someone’s watching.”
I find the medicine vial in a pocket of the pack, take out a couple of capsules, and carefully twist one open, squeeze the contents onto the back of my hand. I flush the toilet and snort. I look back to make sure he’s not spying. I quickly do the same with the other capsule. Finishing, I put the capsules back together and drop them back into the vial, turn off the faucet, check my nostrils in the mirror. Sniff a couple more times.
There we go. That’s what I was looking for.
Forty-Eight
Forty-Eight
It’s not a coincidence you hit my house, is it? I just don’t understand how the kid who was there with you got murdered in my kitchen.”
The handcuffs are off. He’s rubbing his wrists again, keeps eyeballing the baggie of crack.
“I don’t understand,” he says, looking a little dumber every minute.
“You need a brain boost?”
“What do you mean?”