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.
Traffic is light. Hell, it’s a Monday night. Diamond’s obeying the speed limit, which is a good thing. It allows me to stay farther back and get behind another car when I can. He crosses Constitution Avenue, still heading south on 14th. The Washington Monument’s to the right. Obvious he’s gonna take the bridge across to Virginia.
He does, but he stays to the right and doesn’t hit the HOV lane. Instead he takes the exit for the George Washington Memorial Parkway and National Airport.
He’s going to fly him out of town? Fuck that shit.
If I believed in luck I’d be crossing all my fingers and toes right about now. Instead I only believe in survival.
The exit for the airport is a couple of miles away.
When it comes up, I don’t see a blinker. He continues on GW toward Old Town, in Alexandria. Thank the Lord for the nighttime. It makes it easier to tail someone.
He slows down as we enter Old Town, and then after a couple of blocks he slows even more and puts on his right turn signal. He’s gonna turn into that old motel on the edge of town. I pass him as he enters the parking lot, then make a U-turn at the next traffic light and park illegally across the street from the motel.
The young man, who I now am sure is Biddy, pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and follows his uncle to the motel office. I can’t make out anything through the small office window. A few minutes later they both exit, walk along the room doors on the left. I count the doors they pass. They stop at the sixth, and both enter.
I won’t know until tomorrow what it is Diamond’s trying to pull, but that doesn’t matter to me anymore, ’cause I know where the fuck Biddy is.
Shortly after midnight, Diamond exits the room, enters his cab, and makes a left, back onto the GW Parkway, headlights nearly smacking me in the face on the turn.
Then it’s red taillights in the distance, then he’s gone.
I sit back and consider the circumstances here, and it doesn’t take long to decide that I’m too drunk to drive and that the best thing to do is get a room at this very motel in Old Town.
Forty-Five
Forty-Five
The man sitting behind the counter looks old enough to be the motel’s original owner, and this spot has been here for as long as I can remember.
He looks up at me, stone cold, like the living dead, and waits for me to talk.
I try to sound drunk, slur my words.
“I need a room. Too much to drink, and can’t make it back to DC tonight.”
“Hundred dollars a night for a king. No smoking.”
“Damn, hundred bucks. Better than jail, right?”