Page 87

Belinda, now standing, looks down at the bloody McCarthy. Then she swiftly and firmly kicks the side of his head.

“Superpowers, dumbass, ” she says.

CHAPTER 111

MADDY AND BELINDA have shared incredibly uncertain times—in New York, at Harriman, in Dubai. Their friendship has been laced with terror and occasional joy. Their experiences together have afforded them both the opportunity to really get to know each other. Closely. Carefully.

Maddy learned early on that Belinda is very complicated—sad, funny, anxious, and a little bit crazy. But now, in the pursuit and capture of Detective McCarthy, Maddy is suddenly discovering a cold, hard-hearted part of her friend. Maddy knows Belinda to be brave and resilient, but now she is seeing a side of her friend that runs entirely on anger and revenge.

Now fully aware of Maddy’s abilities—and having accidentally taught Belinda about the safety on her pistol—McCarthy must do whatever his captors tell him to do.

First they drive to Belinda’s grubby apartment. There’seven an additional bit of satisfaction for Maddy. She gets to drive McCarthy’s unmarked police car.

The scene remains tense once they enter the apartment. The angry, squirming detective is pushed to the floor and held in place by Maddy’s mental powers while the two young women sit on the side of the mattress. They secure his hands behind his back using the handcuffs they found in his car.

Then yet another additional pleasure. As soon as McCarthy manages to sit up, a foul-smelling fat rat and a few large roaches scuttle across the floor where McCarthy sits. He seems as fearful of the vermin and insects as he is of the girls he previously enjoyed terrorizing.

“Get these disgusting fucking creatures away from me! This sucks. We can go to a place where we can have a drink and discuss what’s happening. That’s how deals are made, girls. Not like this.”

“What are you? Insane? Really and truly insane? Are you too stupid to see that we are not interested in making adeal?” sneers Belinda, truly angry.

Eyes wide, fists clenched, she jumps to her feet and slaps McCarthy—hard. McCarthy cowers. Belinda hits him again.

“Calm down, Belinda,” Maddy says. “We need to hit this guy with questions, not the backs of our hands.”

“How about I ask the questions?” McCarthy says, still searching for a semblance of control. “Like, exactly howcrazy are you? I’m just a cop doing his job. Yeah, I take a payoff now and then. But nothing more.”

“Bullshit,” says Belinda.

“Nothing more?” asks Maddy, her own anger rising. “Not kidnapping? Not assault? Not transporting an underage girl halfway across the world for nefarious means?”

“Oh,that,” McCarthy says dismissively. “Your new boss would’ve taken good care of you, and besides Dubai is beautiful. You’re the dumb bitches who chose to come back. I was trying to do you a favor.”

That statement seems to set off an explosion inside Maddy. It’s as if the hate and anger inside Belinda have invaded her friend twice as much, three times as much, a million times as much.

Maddy leans in close to McCarthy, almost nose to nose. “You fool. You sick, hideous fool,” yells Maddy. “You allow these girls to become drug mules. You provide them as cheap labor to Carla Spector.”

Perhaps Maddy has absorbed all the anger in the room. Belinda has become uncharacteristically calm, almost hypnotically quiet. It looks as if Maddy and Belinda have traded emotional places. Maddy is a case of fury unleashed. Belinda is a vessel of peace.

But maybe not.

“Let me handle this, Maddy,” says Belinda. Then she gently pushes Maddy away from in front of McCarthy. Belinda grabs McCarthy’s hair and pushes his head backward. She pinches his Adam’s apple using her thumb andindex finger. McCarthy begins to spit out a gurgling series of hoarse and horrible shrieks, as Belinda’s face twists with a sick kind of joy. Maddy has to wonder where she learned this torture technique and if it has ever been used on her friend.

“I can keep doing this for the next ten hours,” Belinda says.

McCarthy’s eyes roll insanely around in their sockets, finally landing on Maddy. There are no more shrieks, no more gasps for air. Soon there could be no more McCarthy.

“Stop, Belinda. Stop,” Maddy says firmly. So Belinda stops. But McCarthy falls to the side, no longer breathing.

“Is he dead?” Belinda asks.

“Faking it,” says Maddy, her arms crossed. “And not very well.”

When McCarthy doesn’t react, she gingerly picks up a rat by its tail and drops it onto his upturned face.

With a shriek, McCarthy opens his eyes and lets out a long wave of harsh, hacking coughs. Finally, he speaks again.

“I don’t know shit. You’ve gotta believe me,” he says.