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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.

“Here,” Campos says, handing me a paper towel.

I close the door, take it, and wipe my mouth. That was the second time I’ve vomited in—how long? I don’t want there to be a third time.

“Damn,” I say. “That came out of nowhere.”

“Nerves, buddy,” Gibbs says. “Means you’re human.”

I grunt a laugh, but it hurts.

Seventy-Six

Seventy-Six

Mind if I smoke?” I ask.

“Go ahead. We smoke cigars on occasion,” Campos says.

“Appreciate it.”

I grab my pack out of my pants pocket. It’s smooshed up, but I find a cigarette that’s not all bent out of shape.

“Let me,” Campos says.

“Thanks.”

He takes one out of the pack, offers to light it with his own lighter.

I inhale. Eases the tension. Mouth is damn dry, though.

Before I can finish, we pull into the parking lot next to the emergency entrance.

Campos and Gibbs walk me to the emergency room. They follow as a nurse escorts me to one of the curtained enclosures.

The nurse picks up a hospital gown, and before handing it to me she asks, “Do you need help changing into this?”

“I can manage. Thanks.”

She hands it to me, exits, and closes the curtain for privacy.

“You two wanna watch?”

“Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Gibbs says.

I drop the blanket on the floor, have to use my left hand to take my belt off. A uniform officer took my handcuffs and the pouch with the two mags in it.

I drop my pants, sit on the gurney bed, and use my feet to kick my pants off. I leave my boxers and socks on. I unfold the gown, try to figure out how it goes.

“You want me to get the nurse?” Gibbs says.

The old guy’s starting to bother me, but that’s what cops do. Trying to get under your skin is a natural part of their nature.

“I’m good.”

I have a hard time slipping my left arm through, mostly the shoulder. Could definitely use a couple Oxys right about now, or at least a Percocet. But I manage the painful maneuver, except I can’t tie the gown because I can’t reach the string that wraps around.

Campos walks over, takes the string between two fingers, like he’s afraid he might accidently touch my ass.

“Thanks. You have a nurse’s touch,” I say.

His partner chuckles.

Campos blows it off.