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.
“Well, only if you don’t take certain matters into your own hands, right?”
“Of course.”
“But you’re working it, and you end up finding the burglar—”
“Biddy found me.”
“Okay, but then this crackhead burglar agrees to turn himself in through you. Why the hell would he do that?”
“I answered that exact question from Detective Hurley. That information would be up to Millhoff or Hurley to share with you guys, not me.”
“You’re retired. What are you doing acting like you’re still on the job?” Gibbs asks from the front seat.
“I’m working as a PI. I follow those rules now.”
Yeah, right.
“Like never working with us,” Campos returns.
“Not true. I don’t want to fuck up anything Millhoff and Hurley are working on is all.”
I’m starting to get pissed off. I need a drink and more. At the very least a smoke.
“But you just did,” Campos says.
“Just did what?”
“Fuck up their investigation.”
“Fuck that. I probably got them their murder suspect. Also, I only went in there for Biddy’s personal property. If I would’ve found any evidence, I would’ve turned it over. I even told Biddy that. And remember I entered that motel room on Biddy’s behalf, so there’s no crime there. That man had no right to be in there. The rest was self-defense. Where are you going with all this?”
“Trying to get to the bottom of everything is all,” Campos says.
“I’m not a suspect, or you’d have me in cuffs.”
“Not necessarily,” Gibbs says. “We can go two ways with this. Lock you up for murder and let the prosecutor sort it all out after we do the investigation, or do our investigation and give it to the prosecutor, who will present it to the grand jury. Let them sort it all out.”
“Oh, I like that. My life dependent on civilians.”
“We can put cuffs on you now if you want,” Gibbs says again.
“Naw, that’s okay. You’ll find it was self-defense. So will the prosecutor.”
“Pretty damn good weapon you were given to use against him, though.”
“Thank Wyatt for that.”
Gibbs chuckles.
“You could say it was handmade,” I add.
Both of them chuckle now.
“Fuck, I don’t feel so good,” I say suddenly.
“What do you mean you don’t feel so good?” Campos asks.
“Think I’m going to puke. Pull the car over. Quick.”
Gibbs drives fast, makes a right turn on some small road, and pulls to the curb.
I open the door, lean out.
I hurl everything I got inside, which is hardly anything, so it’s like dry heaves with occasional bile.
Can’t catch my breath, and with every heave, pain radiates throughout my shoulder.
I spit a few times, notice a couple cars pass and pedestrians on the other side of the road quickly walking by.