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.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t leave town.”
“Fuck you twice.”
He smiles, but it’s the kinda smile you make when you understand.
“Don’t waste too much time on me or you’ll never solve it, ’cause next time it’ll be more than a ‘fuck you.’”
“That a threat?”
“A bitch-slap threat.”
He smiles again, differently this time.
Eight
Eight
There’s gotta be an answer.
I try hard to relax myself on the sofa, take slow, deep breaths, without drawing attention to how high I am.
“I’ll need an inventory of what’s been stolen,” Hurley tells me. “When we get finished here, I’ll do a walk-through with you.”
I bow my head, cup my chin in my hand. I feel sick. I never feel this way when working, but this is my home. My own damn family.
“Frank, we’re going to have to test you for gunpowder residue. Rule you out. And your fingerprints, because they’re obviously going to be all over your house and we need to rule those out, too,” Millhoff tells me.
“I don’t have a problem with that,” I respond because I knew that was something Millhoff would ask, and they won’t find my fingerprints at Jeffrey’s house. “You have to let me know when you notify his mom so I can call her, all right?”
“Of course.”
I stare at the wires hanging out of the wall and the vacant area on the dusty entertainment console where the CDs and my mom’s vinyl collection and turntable used to be. The thought that it is or was all in the possession of some bottom-feeder sets my blood hot. And there’s Jeffrey.
I kick the coffee table with the sole of my foot, sending it across the room to land legs up ahead of the fireplace, surprising the hell outta Millhoff and a couple officers in the hallway. Two detectives enter from the kitchen, guns drawn at a tucked position.
Millhoff waves them off.
“Didn’t mean to do that. Sorry.”
“Understandable,” Millhoff says. “Understandable. You’ll have to come to VCU. Give a formal statement.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Nine
Nine
A patrol unit located Jeffrey’s car parked on W, about a block away. They got guys in his house, too. I heard it come over Hurley’s radio that it’s a burglary. Shit. I just made the investigation more complicated for these guys.
My mind is skipping, tripping over itself. I need a Klonopin. I need two, but Hurley and I are doing the walk-through.
Everything’s a mess. Same way I’d do it if I were the burglar.
In my bedroom the drawers have been pulled out, dumped on the floor. Clothing, personal items, and papers tossed into a pile.