“He’s gonna be pissed if I’m here when he gets back,” Maureen said. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”
“Always the artful dodger,” Preacher said. “When we were talking to Detillier, he wanted Madison Leary because she connects to the Watchmen, right? She was the only lead we had left. Quinn, Ruiz, Bobby Scales, Caleb Heath, the other loose ends are tied off.”
“She’s not talking to anyone,” Maureen said. “Ever. You know my feelings on this. We should be squeezing Solomon Heath. Now. We’ll never have more leverage than we do tonight.”
“Fuck him,” Preacher said. He raised an admonishing finger. “In fact, you make sure you stay away from him. You have impulse-control problems. Besides that, I have a better idea. An easier target. One less likely to get you in trouble if things go … sideways.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Who connected Caleb Heath and the Watchmen to Bobby Scales?” Preacher asked.
“Quinn. We’ve gone over this a hundred times.” This was old news. How much blood had Preacher lost? Maureen wondered.
“But it wasn’t Quinn,” Preacher said. “There was a middleman. Remember?”
Maureen got it. Fucking A. “Shadow. Quinn and Ruiz had Shadow on a string. He was the matchmaker, the one who connected Heath and the Watchmen with Scales. And that motherfucker is out there on the streets.” She sat in the chair, inched it closer to Preacher’s bedside. “That’s a great idea in theory. Shadow is definitely a forgotten link to the Watchmen, but, man, that cat is harder to find than Leary.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Preacher said. “This shit with the white Camaro, around that grocery store, I’ll bet anything it’s drawn him out of whatever hole he’s been hiding in since Quinn put Bobby Scales in the Mississippi. A shift in power, a change in ownership of the territory in front of that store? I promise you Shadow is hovering on the edges of that shit. It’s what he does. The problem has never been seeing him. It’s getting anything to stick to him. He just glides over the surface of things. It’s why he’s called Shadow.”
“Little E might know something,” Maureen said. “You think he’s the way to go?”
“No doubt. He’s dug into the neighborhood like a tick. That’s why I wanted you looking for him over at the grocery store before this other shit went down.”
“What if he doesn’t know,” Maureen asked, “or he won’t say?”
“Coughlin, I’m in a hospital bed,” Preacher said. “For the forseeable future. I gotta do your job for you from here?”
“I don’t want to fuck this up is what I’m saying. I wanna move as fast as possible and make sure I get results.”
“Cops are dead over this,” Preacher said. “Today isn’t the end of it. They’ll come after us again, and Shadow connects to the men who did it. You said it yourself: there will never be a time when you have more authority, and more freedom to use it to get the answers you need, than you do right now, tonight. Use it, Coughlin. Tell the rest of the squad. Hit the neighborhood like a fucking hurricane. Answers, Officer. By any means necessary. Believe.”
Maureen rose from the chair, stepped to the bed. She reached out, set her hand on Preacher’s. She figured she had until morning before the powers-that-be got their shit together. She had a lot to do before then. Miles to go before she slept. “I’m going to take care of this, Preach. I promise.” She walked to the door.
Before crossing the threshold, she stopped, turned back to him. “The other two cops, that was opportunity. But you. They came after you because of me. Your connection to me got you shot.”
Preacher blinked at her, waiting a long time to speak. “So.”
“Well, I just want to—”
“You apologize to me,” Preacher said, coughing, wincing at the pain. “And I will get out of this bed. So help me God, I will put you over my knee.”
Maureen sputtered. “I mean, I—”
“You’re right,” Preacher said. “I was targeted because I’m close to you. So what? What if instead of hunting me they hit the streets today gunning for someone else? That’s better? It’d be better, you’d feel better, if instead of coming after an old warhorse savvy enough to see them coming, they went after two more young’uns with pretty wives and little kids? They don’t come for me, and maybe we have four dead cops today instead of two. Think about that.”
Maureen put her hands on her hips, hung her head. She blew out her breath.
“I love ya, Coughlin. I do. But you gotta quit thinking you’re at the center of everything. This city was fucked up when you got here. It’ll be fucked up when we’re dead and buried. You’re just another marcher in the fucking parade. The sooner you learn that, the happier you’ll be. Welcome to the party.”
29