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’s wearing a tucked-in short-sleeved shirt with no bulges, and he’s fucking too old for an ankle holster ’cause he probably can’t even touch his toes, but I still don’t wanna take a chance.
“You got a gun or any kind of weapon under that seat or anywhere in the car?”
“Lord, no.”
“Well, for your safety and mine I’m just gonna check under your seat. And you’re no match for me, Mr. Diamond, so don’t get stupid.”
“I ain’t got no gun, and I ain’t stupid.”
While keeping an eye on him I reach my right hand in, feel around the floor under the seat. I stand and reach further in to open the center console. Nothing.
I move back, extend my arm to the open door, and say, “Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Diamond?”
He sits down in the front seat, looks up to me.
“What about my keys?”
“I’ll give them to you once I hop in the front.”
He shakes his head. Lips tighten. He shuts the door. I walk around the rear of the vehicle, keeping an eye on his movements. I unlock the front passenger door, sit, and shut the door.
“Starting to get real humid,” I say while handing his keys back to him. “How about you start this up and get the air going? Then I’ll tell you what this is all about.”
Thirty-One
Thirty-One
He keeps a clean cab, which is interesting. With the air on it cools down nicely. A plug-in deodorizer sticks out where the car lighter should be. Smells like cinnamon. His ashtray is clean, so I’ll be polite and won’t even ask about smoking. There’s thick Plexiglas with a slide-open window that separates him from the passengers in back. Doubtful it’s bulletproof.
His hands are on his lap.
“You keep a nice cab.”
“Been doing this for thirty-three years. Always kept a nice cab. You never told me your name, Officer.”
“Frank Marr, and I’m going to start by being straight and tight because I don’t want to waste my time or your gas. I got you good, so in order for this deal to work between us I need you to work with me.”
“Wha—”
“Don’t even go there, because here’s what you stand to lose: you’ll get a warrant for your arrest. You’ll get your cab seized because you used it during the commission of several felonies. It’ll get impounded as evidence. What are you, late sixties?” I ask before he can respond.
“Seventy-two.”
“You look good for seventy-two.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy.
“You married?”
A moment.
“My wife passed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you ain’t.”
“You don’t know me. Just tell me what I need to know. What about kids?”
“All due respect, Officer—”
“Investigator will do.”