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.
“No. I got some good intel. And you remember to call me if any of your burglary boys gets in touch with you.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s still early enough for you to pick up some good fares. That should make this a really good day for you.”
“It should. Do I have to say thank you or some shit like that?”
“Not when it’s a mutual understanding.”
I grab my backpack, but before I get out I say, “I might call you tomorrow just to check in on you. Always answer.”
He nods.
Diamond doesn’t hesitate to pull out. I watch him drive to 9th, where he makes a right.
When I get to my porch, I stand and listen before unlocking the door, like I’m worried that whoever murdered Jeffrey will come back.
The first thing I do when I get home is—hell, why even mention it anymore? I’ve got needs.
I give Leslie a call to let her know I’ll be working a late surveillance gig I got hired for but will have my phone on vibrate if she wants to call or text. We get together on most weekends nowadays. This weekend is uncertain. It really depends on what kind of intel I get tonight, if I even can.
“How about we play this weekend by ear?” she says.
“I would like to see you, though. Get out of my house.”
“Tomorrow night if you’re not doing a real late-night thing.”
“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Be safe with whatever it is you’re working. It has nothing to do with your cousin’s murder, right?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Frankie. I’m worried about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Frank.” She sighs. “Talk to you later, then.”
“All right.”
She disconnects first.
I stretch out on the sofa to close my eyes and allow them rest. I certainly won’t get any sleep.
I start to think about my mother for some reason. Never really knew her, but I do remember a little of what she looked like and the music she used to listen to. She loved music. When I was in my teens, about five years after her death, my stepfather finally opened up to me and said it was because of bad depression. That’s why she took her life.