Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- 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
- PART THREE
- 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
- PART FOUR
- 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
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“I know, I know. So, look here, I’m telling you I’d remember something like that, all those people. But I don’t know who the fuck they are, and I sure don’t know who’d do that horrible shit to them. I don’t hang with people like that. Sorry.”
The room stayed silent, all eyes on Eddy.
“Goddamn,” Eddy breathed, to no one but himself. His breath was a lit match in his mouth.
“Goddamn is right, Eddy,” Danny agreed, and then, some silent signal passing between them, he turned to Deputy Reynosa, who reached down and pulled out a second folder. She opened it and took out a single picture. She held it up and then gave it to Eddy.
It was a picture of his kitchen, or what was left of it.
Before things had gotten too bad with the crank, he used to love to stand in that kitchen with the window open, facing the river. Listening to the sounds of the night and the water while drinking a cold beer, frying up some deer backstrap to mix in with some of that Patty Melt Hamburger Helper. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d done that. Maybe months, maybe years. He knew that kitchen, but it was like someone else’s place now, even with the same old shit he recognized everywhere. Sometimes when he was using, it was like someone else had moved into his life, a real mean motherfucker pushing Eddy out of the way. Soon, there wouldn’t be any room left for him at all.
He tried to focus on the picture, wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking at, and then—another one of those moments of bright, hard clarity—he did.
He slid the picture back without a word, as Danny kept talking to him.
“Deputy Reynosa was taking photos of your place after our little altercation. Standard procedure. Evidence photos. All legal, with a search warrant and everything. You know what I’m talking about now, don’t you, Eddy?”
Eddy bit his lip. There was some good cop–bad cop shit going on here, but he was suddenly, brutally, too tired to care. After five, okay, maybe six days of being awake—of being pulled taut like a goddamn wire—he was worn out. So goddamn tired.
He laid his head down on the table.
He wondered where Charity was, and when he’d see her again.
Paez put a hand on his arm. “Don’t admit to something if there’s nothing to admit to. But if there is, Eddy, now is the time. If not, then we’re done here.”