Page 86 of The Presidents Shadow

“Well, well, well, look who’s come home.”

A cop? A driver? A customer?

The two of them turn around quickly.

“Mama-Girl!” Maddy yells, surprised at how glad she is to see the older woman. And Belinda, she just bursts into tears.

Mama-Girl steps forward and puts her arms around Belinda.

“Let me hold you and make certain I really got you standing here,” says Mama-Girl. Then she adds quietly, sadly, solemnly, “We heard that you two were gone. Very, very, very gone. Gone like Chloe. Gone like Travis.”

Maddy nods, then says, “They tried to send us off to some hell, but they couldn’t do it.”

Belinda rubs her eyes, sniffles, then gets back to business.

“We came by to visit our old friend Detective McCarthy,” she says.

“He doesn’t work this road anymore,” Mama-Girl informs them. “Someone said he was afraid one of the rare decent cops would squeal on him and his whole operation. But he ain’t dead. That’s for sure.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” says Maddy.

“Don’t worry about old Bobby-boy,” Mama-Girl says, taking a drag on a cigarette. “He’s not here at the bridge, but he’s around. You can find him on the commuter car strip going uptown on Third Avenue.”

“Thanks, Mama-Girl. Appreciate the info,” Belinda says.

“God bless you. Good luck, ladies,” Mama-Girl says.

She hugs Belinda, then Maddy. Then she says, “Y’all come back when you don’t have to run off to beat the shit out of someone.”

CHAPTER 110

MADDY HAILS A cab and tells the driver, “Just take us to the general neighborhood of Third Avenue.”

Belinda immediately interrupts and revises the order.

“Make that Second Avenue and 30th Street,” Belinda says. Then she adds, “You forget. I’m something of an expert in these things. I’m certain that’s where the other dealers are, and I’m certain that means McCarthy is there, too, doing whatever Carla says.”

Sure enough, they find McCarthy in a cheap blue suit with a shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest standing outside a 7-Eleven, sucking on a straw that’s connected to a giant-sized Slurpee.

The two young women walk closer to McCarthy. When he sees them he loses interest in his Slurpee, throwing it to the ground in surprise.

He instinctively backs up a few inches.

“How the hell? You two assholes are… are supposed to… supposed to be…”

“Yeah, I get it,” says Belinda, sounding bored. “We’re supposed to be dealing drugs in Dubai.”

“I’ve got some questions for—” Maddy begins, but she doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Belinda whips out her pistol, aims it at McCarthy’s head, and pulls the trigger. But… nothing happens.

“What?” Belinda asks, looking at the gun in confusion.

“Safety, dumbass,” McCarthy sneers—and then pulls his own gun.

Maddy tightens her shoulders and spine. She concentrates with an intensity so overwhelming that her heart races and her head aches.

McCarthy points his weapon at Belinda, finger curled over the trigger. Suddenly, he goes flying backward, thrown by some invisible force. McCarthy falls hard to the cement ground. The detective goes completely still. Blood oozes from the back of his head.

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