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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.

I set the cigarette in the ashtray, grab my pack, and go to the bathroom to get what I need, which is more than washing my hands.

Ten

Ten

I got back from VCU late. A no-sleep night. Basically the same questions, but they wanted everything recorded. Millhoff got hard on me, asked me about the smell on me. I understand.

Now I got this here.

Cleaning up. The only job cops aren’t required to do.

Before I get to work on the blood-soaked kitchen floor, I grab my cell to call Aunt Linda.

She answers on the first ring.

“Yes,” she says, but the way she says it is enough for me to know she’s been crying for a while.

“Linda, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say except I’m going to find out who’s responsible.”

“Who’s responsible? Who’s responsible? Frank, you can talk to our lawyer about who is responsible.”

“What?”

“I called you because I had no one else to call. How could you not be responsible?”

“You have to know I—”

“I should have known better than to trust you,” she sobs. “You’re just like your father.”

“What?”

“Don’t call here anymore, Frank.”

She disconnects.

“Shit.”

What did she mean by that? My father? I never even knew my father. Or does she mean my stepfather?

I want to throw the phone but realize I need it. I wanna break something.

I snort a hefty pile of coke instead.

Lawyer? Why the hell not?

I put my latex gloves on, fill a bucket of water with too much bleach mixed in, and pick up a rag from a bunch of old rags I got out of the backyard shed. Never had to clean up blood before. Well, my own on occasion, but never spilled like this.

My cell’s been ringing off the hook. Mostly from Leslie and Al Luna, but there are a couple other numbers I don’t recognize. Luna was my partner at Narcotics Branch when I was on the job, and he’s about the only one I keep in touch with now and still call a friend.

I also did a quick fix on the door. It’ll have to be replaced. I boarded it up with two-by-fours I had lying around. It’s more secure now than it was before. Maybe I should leave it that way. I rarely use the back door.

I toss the soaked rag in a heavyweight trash bag, pick up a clean one, and let it soak up the bleach water and then scrub again. Most of it is soaked up. The grout will have to be scrubbed. I feel sick. All I can see is his face as a five-year-old, a puffy black eye, and a snicker because he was so proud of it.

My doorbell rings. Startles me.