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.
Death is in his dull eyes—a frozen, forsaken stare, as if taken by surprise. He’s wearing the same clothes he wore last night at the club. Jacket’s still on. Same V-neck T-shirt, but his blood has turned it a darker shade of gray. I wanna put my hand on his head, feel him. He can’t be dead.
“What in the fuck—”
“Frank, you know this guy?”
But still—my stash wall.
Seven
Seven
He’s my cousin. Jeffrey Baldwin,” I say. “It doesn’t make sense.”
His face an older version of the five-year-old kid’s. I wanna take his hand.
“I thought you said you didn’t have anyone staying with you,” Millhoff says.
“I don’t. That’s why this doesn’t make sense.”
“Did he have a key?”
I don’t answer. I just shake my head, like I’m starting to lose it. Fading away. I have to turn away from him. Can’t look at him like this.
“Let’s talk in the living room,” Millhoff says.
Still have enough sense to be worried about my stash.
How could I think about that right now?
I purposefully walk toward the hall. They don’t stop me. I watch my steps, though, make sure I don’t trample evidence that might be on the kitchen floor.
When I enter the narrow hallway I casually look in the laundry room as I pass.
It’s all good.
Wall still intact.
Fuck. I’m so relieved I even get the chills. For a brief moment I feel fine, but then reality slaps me in the face.
Jeffrey. Dead. On my kitchen floor.
I light another cigarette when I get back to the sofa.
This time Hurley sits at the other end. Millhoff on the armchair again. I’m having a tough time. Feeling a bit sick to my stomach, even.
“Did he have a key to your house?” Millhoff asks again.
“No, of course not.”
“Why ‘of course not’?”
“’Cause he’s the case I’ve been working. For his mother. My aunt. He didn’t know.”
Did he know?
“Last time he saw me he was about fourteen years old.”
“So where exactly have you been the past couple of hours?” Millhoff asks.
“Driving around the GW campus looking for him.”
“He was missing?”
“No. His mother wanted me to watch him. That’s all. Report back if he was up to no good. He was. Why the fuck is he dead in my house? It makes no sense. We never met after he moved here. Never even talked. Everything was surveillance. Nothing close. I don’t understand this shit.”
“But aren’t they on summer break?” Millhoff asks.
“He was in summer school.”
“What’s his address?” Millhoff asks.
I give it to him, and he writes it in his notebook. He goes on his radio.
“Carlson, you on?”
Carlson’s response is filtered through the radio. “Go ahead, Timmy.”