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.
He arrives an hour or so after the call, holding a large brown bag. I haven’t seen him in a while. The bags under his eyes are more evident. He’s wearing tan BDU pants and a light green polo, tucked in. He gives me this What the fuck? look.
We shake hands but don’t follow with the customary knocking shoulders because of my injury.
“Come in, bro,” I say.
“Damn, Frankie. You got messed up.”
“Yes, I did.”
He steps in, turning down the volume on the handheld radio secured to his belt, then setting it on the coffee table so he can hear it. After time, your ears get keen to the dispatcher’s voice and what she says, no matter how low the volume, especially if it’s something related to you or an officer in need of assistance.
I sit on the sofa, and Luna sets the bag on the coffee table and sits on the armchair.
“You be sure to get yourself a lawyer. Better yet, a good-looking lawyer who loves you.”
“Afraid we’re on the skids right now.”
“What the fuck happened?”
“I happened” is all I say.
“That shouldn’t have been enough. She’s tougher than you.”
“Yes, she is, but I fucked up.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Sorry, man, but no.”
“Damn. You are being tested, my friend.”
“I’ll see how it goes. If it goes to a grand jury, then I’ll find someone. I know a few good defense attorneys.” I look at the sub. “This looks great,” I say, changing the subject.
“It’s an everyday thing for me,” he says while rubbing his little Buddha belly.
“Better slow down there, buddy.”
“Fuck you. Looks like you lost too much weight. You eating regular?”
“Nothin’ but solid muscle on these bones. I eat well.”
He pulls out two small bags of chips, some napkins, and the two subs.
“You want something to drink? A beer, maybe?”
“That’ll just make me more tired. I got a soda in here.”
He pulls that out.
“I’m going to crack a beer. Be right back.”
He begins to unwrap the beast of a sub he’s got. I grab a good micro out of the fridge, pop the cap, and return.
After a swig I ask, “So you hear anything with my name in it?”
“Usual shit. You keep getting yourself caught up in bad situations.”
“Department doesn’t have anything to come at me with, though, right?”
“You mean your PI shit?”
“Yeah. I mean that and more.”
“Not that I heard. Being at NSID, I’m separated from all that political crap, except for the petty shit they’re making us do now.”
“What’s that?”
“Same as it always is—no long-term investigations, just buy busts and quick hits. Five more years of this, and I’m outta there. Maybe come work for you.”
Uh, not a good idea.