"I've got the guns."
"Give me one."
"No, I'll keep them. You don't know how to shoot," Constance said. "I'll be back." She circled around the for sale sign. At the back door, she turned the door knob. Brice rushed inside, tripping over the two by four in the floor and rolled a couple times.
"You alright," Constance asked.
"You landed on top of Nachine's stash." Constance laughed as she held two packs of white substance wrapped in plastic, secured with duct tape. Brice felt his hand around the room. He clicked on the light. "She's been busy, Brice." Handing him a click board with sheets, the first had a map of Cody and list of students by their grades who she enlisted as runners. The second page had a map of Oakland County where VK marked certain homes with dates written on top.
"This is not Nachine's handwriting."
"What you two doing in that house?" a neighbor asked, peering into the window with his baseball bat. "We don't want squatters living here."
"Get away from their baby," the neighbor's friend said.
"I'm calling the cops," the guy said.
"Why didn't you call the cops when Nachine setup her operation?" Brice asked, shoving the papers down his pants pocket.
"They must've felt sorry for her ass," Constance said. "Come on we'll come back later to see if we can catch Nachine.
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