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.
“I’m on a burglary-fencing task force downtown. I’m not the lead on this.”
“My house was burglarized?”
“Let’s find Detective Millhoff.”
When they don’t answer…
“Millhoff? I know him. He’s Homicide.”
“He’s inside your house” is all he says.
The chief is standing beside his number two man, Deputy Chief Garrett Wightman, who is on his cell. I have a history with Wightman, and it’s not good. What the fuck is going on? Am I done? They got something on me and hit my house?
The chief turns to take notice of me, but there’s no reaction. He just lets the detective walk me to my stoop.
I snuff my cigarette out on the sidewalk. Heart’s racing. I need a drink.
I notice Wightman again. He’s off his cell. Looks at me hard. Not with the Wightman half smile that he likes to give to those who are about to get fucked, so maybe…
Six
Six
My house is a crime scene.
I’m in the hallway but can see to my living room. It’s been ransacked. Sofa cushions are turned over; end-table drawers are open and the contents spilled out.
Search warrant or burglary?
Hurley steps away toward my kitchen to find Millhoff. He walks past the laundry room, where my stash wall is. Doesn’t look that way when he passes. A good sign? It’s a small room, so even from here I’d notice movement inside. But maybe they already cleared it. Can’t take not knowing.
I’m not in handcuffs, but a rookie in uniform is stationed at the front door behind me. Seems at ease as I stand there alone.
Millhoff walks out of the kitchen, followed by Hurley. He doesn’t gaze in the laundry room, either. Millhoff has latex gloves on. He’s wearing khakis and an untucked navy-blue polo shirt with MPDC HOMICIDE BRANCH embroidered in gold on the breast. I go back with Millhoff. He’s good people. Handled a drive-by shooting I got caught up in about a year back when I was working a missing-girl case. A patrol officer got killed on that one. I was damn lucky. Most of that crew they arrested will be lucky if they ever see the light of day. The cop who got killed was found to be dirty. Of course that was based on information I leaked to a certain FBI agent. Didn’t hear much about that part on the news. Go figure. You didn’t hear anything about my early retirement on the news, either.
“Frank” is how he greets me.
Doesn’t take off the latex gloves to shake.
“What the hell is going on here, Timmy?” I ask.
I look in my living room.
“That wasn’t us,” he says like he knows I’m worried.
“You saying my house got hit?” I ask Millhoff.
“It looks that way. Where you been?”