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Back Crime Song Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. Fifty-Five
  60. Fifty-Six
  61. Fifty-Seven
  62. Fifty-Eight
  63. Fifty-Nine
  64. Sixty
  65. Sixty-One
  66. Sixty-Two
  67. Sixty-Three
  68. Sixty-Four
  69. Sixty-Five
  70. Sixty-Six
  71. Sixty-Seven
  72. Sixty-Eight
  73. Sixty-Nine
  74. Seventy
  75. Seventy-One
  76. Seventy-Two
  77. Seventy-Three
  78. Seventy-Four
  79. Seventy-Five
  80. Seventy-Six
  81. Seventy-Seven
  82. Seventy-Eight
  83. Seventy-Nine
  84. Eighty
  85. Eighty-One
  86. Eighty-Two
  87. Eighty-Three
  88. Eighty-Four
  89. Eighty-Five
  90. Eighty-Six
  91. Eighty-Seven
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. Also by David Swinson
  95. Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.

I dump the cup on Older’s lap. He looks up and away from it. Closes his eyes for a second.

“I’m going to force-feed him the next cup,” I tell Younger.

He looks at Older, who looks back down to him, nodding several times.

“In the kitchen! The fucking kitchen,” Younger blurts.

“Where else?”

“Nowhere else. I fuckin’ swear.”

Fifty-Six

Fifty-Six

Where exactly?” I ask.

“You gonna get us killed,” Younger tells me.

“What the fuck you think I’m gonna do?” I threaten.

“Gonna get yourself killed.”

“By who, your grandma?”

“We got people. People you should be worrying yourself about.”

I slap him hard on the face.

“It’s you who should be worrying,” I tell him.

“We got the police. You fucking can’t run from them.”

I wanna slap him again but don’t. His brother’s shaking his head, like Shut the fuck up.

“You got the police on your side, huh? Protecting you? You think they’re gonna protect you when you’re locked up and they’re thinkin’ you’re gonna roll on them? You little moron.”

I grab him by the neck, squeeze hard so he has a hard time breathing.

“This is your last chance to tell me what I need to know. This is for real, little man.”

It doesn’t take him long to figure out I’m telling the truth.

“Behind the stove.” Younger coughs.

“Stove. That can be dangerous. Start a fire.”

“We never use it.”

“Still, not the best place to store your cash.”

I take them one by one and put them belly down on the floor. Careful not to get any of Grandma’s shit on me. I grab a few more zip ties, then secure their legs to the ties around their wrists. I stick the duct tape over Younger’s mouth, walk to the kitchen, click on the Streamlight, and find the stove. I can see skid marks on the vinyl floor where it looks like the stove has been slid out several times. It’s an old electric stove.

I grab it from behind and easily slide it out. It’s unplugged. Grandma was probably the last one to use it way back when she could walk up and down the stairs.

Secreted inside the open back is a construction-type black trash bag. I pull it out. The opening is tied in a single knot. I open it.

“Fuck,” I mumble.