Life On The Line Part 3

The DA was staring at me and I was staring at Detective 1 who was staring at the DA. The only thing that was keeping me from breaking out in a sweat was the fact that I was completely dehydrated from the massive amounts of coke in my body. I had built up a pretty good tolerance for the white powder and I was working on the tail end of my second eight ball when the cops had grabbed me. After what seemed like an eternity the DA finally spoke.

DA: "Tell you what I'm going to do."
Trashman: "What's that?"
DA: "I'm going to let you walk out of here. But I want you back in here at 9:00 am Monday morning."
Detective 1: "Are you kidding?"
DA: "No. He'll be back. Won't you?"
Trashman: "I'll be here bright and early Monday morning."
Detective 1: "There's no way you're letting him walk out of here."
Detective 2: "I think he'll come back."
Detective 1: "He's going to run. I see it in his eyes."
DA: "What you see in his eyes is a lot of coke. What I see in his eyes is he's telling the truth."
Trashman (pointing at the DA): "I'm with this guy."
Detective 2: "You know if you don't come back, we'll come looking for you. We already found you once."
Trashman: "Just one question. Where did you take those pictures from?"
Detective 2 (laughing): "We can't tell you that."
Trashman: "OK. I'll see you Monday morning."
Detective 1: "If you're one minute late I'm going to arrest you."
Trashman: "I'll be here before you are."
DA: "Leave before I change my mind."

I stood up and smiled at Detective 1 and walked out of the office. As I walked down the hall to the elevator I had a slight spring in my step. I just got pulled downtown on a murder investigation and I was walking out. I walked like I was on top of the world. Ten feet tall, bullet proof and invisible.

When I got out to the street and made it back to my truck, it took everything I had to stop the shaking in my hands so I could unlock the door. I sat in my truck for a good half hour with my eyes closed, shaking like a leaf, and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. Eventually I started the truck and drove back to the motel.

I got back to my room and dug out the eight ball plus that I had left. I continued my little coke party except now it wasn't much fun. My brain was going 200 mph and the paranoia was back. Except this wasn't ordinary paranoia. No this was the mack daddy of paranoia. This was the kind where you know everybody and I mean everyfuckinbody including God, Jesus, and Satan are all gunning for my ass kind of paranoia.

I started the second half of my coke party late Friday night. I ran out of blow by Saturday afternoon. I crashed until late Sunday evening. Then I went home. By this time I did plenty of thinking. I knew who the snitch was. I was going to the meeting with the cops, I was going to play nice with the good officers, find out what I could and put the rest of the puzzle together. Then I was going to call The Saint. He was the only one I could trust.