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.
The only blessing in that whole shit storm was that Deputy Chief Wightman didn’t show to the scene. I still feel the same way about him—I despise him—but I don’t blame him for what he did. It was in the department’s interest to force me into early retirement. If word ever got out that a top narcotics detective who put some major players away was, and still is, snorting up cocaine, not only the media but also all the defense attorneys would have a field day. Best do it quietly, let me have my measly 40 percent, and send me on my way. I deserved worse, so like I said, I don’t blame him. I just don’t like the man.
Diamond’s murder was picked up by another homicide detective, but he told me Millhoff and Hurley will be kept in the loop, just in case everything is connected.
It’s late, but I try to call Biddy again when I’m sitting in the air-conditioned car. Still goes straight to voice mail.
I make my way back to the motel.
No traffic, but it still feels like it took too long to get there. I pull into the parking lot, find the first space available.
Light’s on in his room, dim through the closed curtain. I knock on the door, lightly at first, then harder when I don’t get an answer.
“Biddy, it’s Frank. Open up.”
Nothing.
“Biddy, open the door.”
I knock harder.
I hear a door open, then close, down the walkway to the side of me.
Fucking night manager. Different man from before. Younger, but still looks like he might be part of the family that owns this place. It’s a certain look. Old Virginia.
He’s clutching a cell phone in his right hand, probably ready to make that 911 call.
I take out my wallet and flash my badge.
“You have a man named Givens staying in there. I don’t have time to explain, but I need to make sure he’s safe.”
“I can’t just open the door,” he says quietly.
“Yes, you can, and you will. Call Alexandria PD if you have to, but you’re opening this door. Better now, though, in case he’s hurt.”
He thinks about it.
“I can’t let you in.”
“Don’t need to go in. You just check, see if he’s in there.”
“Let me see your badge again?”
“Showed it already. He could be in danger, so either open the door or call the police here. Now.”
He digs through his right pants pocket, pulls out a key ring with a lot of keys attached to it, searches for the right one.
He unlocks the door.
“Just open it and stand back.”
“I said you can’t go in.”
“You want to go in, then go ahead, but it might not be safe.”
He steps to the side.