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.
“I truly can understand that. I personally don’t like Uber. Don’t trust them, but I’m old-fashioned that way.”
“Old-fashioned? Shit, you’re too young to be old-fashioned.”
I chuckle in my head.
“How much do you make on a good day, not including what those mopes give you?”
It doesn’t take him long.
“I’m lucky to pocket a hundred bucks after a ten-hour day and expenses.”
“How much extra do you make picking these guys up and taking them where they have to go?”
He’s hesitant.
“Is it worth getting locked up, losing your cab, and going to jail for? For what, a few more bucks?”
“Naw, it ain’t.”
My phone rings. I pull it out of the suit jacket’s inner pocket.
Shit.
It’s Hurley.
“What’s up, partner?” I answer. “No, I can’t right now. On an interview. Yeah, I do have to work. No kidding? Really? Shit. Okay. Around two o’clock. A little hard to talk right now. Right. Sounds good, man. You got it. Bye.” I disconnect, slip it back into my inner pocket.
Fuck, they found my .38.
I turn to Diamond.
“That was Detective Hurley. Seems he recovered some interesting property related to the burglary I’m working. Good for me, not really good for you.”
“You playing me or somethin’?”
“This is where the conversation ends, and you’re either with me or you’re fucked.”
“You playin’ me. I know what you all do.”
“Mr. Diamond, I’ve told you more than I would’ve told anyone else in your position. Don’t ask me why, ’cause I fucking don’t know. I got you picking up burglars who put stolen goods in the trunk of your car. I got you taking them to fences, like that spot on Fourteenth by Thomas Circle. I got them paying you after they sell the goods.” I stop just in case I’ve gone too far. Don’t mention the murder again. He might shut down. “All I’m going to say now is you can get yourself out of this and work with me here.”
“How do I know you’re tellin’ the truth?”
“You don’t. You don’t. But I am. For whatever that’s worth. You don’t get far in my line of work if you fuck people over. Word eventually gets out, then my name’s worth shit.”
I pull out my wallet from my back pocket, open it, making sure he can see the edge of the badge shine just right, and I count out ten twenties. After I slip my wallet back in the pocket I hand it over to him.
“This is to show good faith. That’s double a hard day’s work for you.”
He looks at it, looks worried, like I’m offering him a bribe.
“It’s for real. I’m not playing you.”
“What kinda damn investigator are you?”