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’m going to have to try to figure out how to get some bumps, especially if we’re going to sit here for more than a couple of hours. I’ve got a few cigarettes laced with cocaine, but that’s pretty much worthless. It might get me by, though. I also poured a nice bit of Jameson into a sport bottle.
Unfortunately, I need Diamond with me. He can identify Biddy and some of the other players for me. One of them killed or likely knows who killed Jeffrey. That’s the priority here. I’m not gonna lie, though. It’s also about getting a good hit. And I’m hoping this house on Riggs is just that hit.
It doesn’t take long before we see a rail of a man walking north on the other side of 13th. He’s shouldering a backpack that appears to be stuffed.
“You know this crackhead?”
“Huh?”
“The dude across the street, walking this way.”
He waits for him to get closer, reclines down in his seat so he won’t be noticed.
“No, but still I ain’t takin’ no chances.”
The man makes a right into the cut directly across from us. I tuck down a little and cup my binos in both hands.
He walks slowly past the rear of the house and into the parking lot, where he disappears between cars. Not even a minute later, I see one of the boys Diamond mentioned yesterday exit the rear gate and step in the narrow alley. I get just enough of his face to make him out. Young, maybe early twenties. Pristine old-school tennis shoes, baggy jeans, and a white T-shirt. And it sure as fuck looks like the boy who ran from me at the record store. He was last seen running toward this area, so maybe he was holding. Shit—for all I know, maybe he was getting ready to deliver to Oscar at the record store. Fuck, all these connections.
“Is that one of the boys?”
“Yeah, that’s the young one.”
“What’s his name or nickname?”
“I told you before, I don’t know them like that.”
“Just testing,” I say with a smile.
Baggy Jeans makes his way toward the parking lot and also slips out of sight between the cars. Not even three minutes later he’s walking back, cradling a laptop and holding something in the palm of his hand that I can’t make out. He enters the rear gate to his house. Shortly after, the crackhead appears, but he turns right, into the alley cut that leads to Riggs.
His backpack does not seem so full anymore.
I take a swig of Jameson from my sport bottle.
“I need to smoke.”
“I don’t allow smoking in my cab.”
“I’ll roll the window down, keep the cigarette outta the car.”
“I hate that shit in my cab.”