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 go through half a bottle of Jameson and I don’t even want to know how much blow.
This shit’s got me reeling, and I’m not talking the coke and alcohol. It’s all too close to home. Literally. My aunt? I don’t know what to make of her visit. I don’t know what Millhoff and Hurley are thinking at this point, either. I’m afraid to know. Shit. I’m just getting paranoid again.
If Wrayburn was involved in Jeffrey’s murder, I’m sure they’ll connect him with DNA or some other evidence. But what if he had nothing to do with it and was taken out simply because I talked to him? I gotta find Biddy. He’s either the shooter or he’s gotta know who is.
I start getting myself so worked up with all this shit, especially Linda’s visit, that my stomach starts to churn. I feel like I gotta puke.
I run to the hallway bathroom, lift the toilet seat, and there goes all my Jameson.
Haven’t done that in a long while. I rinse my mouth out. Return to the sofa. Light a smoke.
Aunt Linda looked so frail. I don’t remember her looking like that. And why did she come here, especially after what she said over the phone? She did apologize for that, though.
Am I all she has now?
That would not be a comforting thought.
I want to hear Leslie’s voice. That is comforting. Even better, have her next to me. I’m too fucked up, though, and I’ll just do something stupid. I’ve been known to occasionally get stupid.
I wake up early in the morning and feel oddly refreshed. Maybe there’s something to that puking shit. A cleansing. Might have to look into that.
While drinking coffee I start to worry about why I’m not getting a call from Diamond. Maybe he screwed me. What am I thinking? It’s like I forgot who I’m dealing with. Criminals, even low-level ones like Diamond, are unpredictable. You can’t trust them.
I give him some time, and when that’s up, about an hour later, I call him.
He answers on the fourth ring. After a lot of reluctance on his part and a bit of unsubtle persuasion on mine, he agrees to pick me up at 10th and U Streets, just a couple blocks from my house, so I can walk. He says he’s not that far from there.
“Northwest corner,” I advise him. “About fifteen minutes, then.”
He agrees.
I get there in ten.
About another ten minutes later I see what appears to be his cab heading west on U Street, toward me. I hope it’s him, because when it’s close enough I raise my hand to hail him over.
I recognize the old man through the front windshield as he pulls to the curb.