Page 26 of Sebastian

The still-smoldering remains of the two-story home greeted Garr, Alistair, Brix, and Major as they pulled up to the scene. One fire truck was leaving the scene, while another stayed, spraying the smoking remains of the home.

Crowds had cleared away, the only remaining vehicles those of the fire department. The truck for fire investigators was still there, along with two patrol cars.

“Morning, folks. No onlookers, please,” said the firefighter.

“We’re not onlookers,” said Major. “We’re investigating the individuals who owned the home. We are with Voodoo Guardians.” The eyebrows of the firefighters and police officers rose in admiration. One of the cops moved closer, looking at the four men, glancing up and down.

“You’re way fucking bigger than everyone says you are, and that’s saying a lot,” he smirked. Brix laughed, shaking his head.

“We’re peewees compared to some of the others. Can you tell us anything about how this started?”

“Plain old gasoline,” said the investigator. “Two cans from what we could tell. They wanted to make sure that nothing was left to see.”

“Did you say that you were investigating the people who owned the home?” asked the officer. Alistair looked at his name tag and nodded.

“Corbin, right?” The officer nodded. “Yes, we need to find them.”

“We’re a bit confused,” said Corbin. “The owner of this home died two months ago. Willie Carter. There were no surviving relatives, so it’s been tied up with the bank.”

“Shit,” muttered Garr. “We’re looking for at least five senior citizens whom we believe are responsible for robbing banks recently. We also believe they killed two FBI agents.”

“No, shit?” muttered Corbin. “We knew of the robberies, obviously, but that’s a fed case all the way. Seniors?”

“I wonder if they knew the deceased,” said Brix. “Maybe they had some sort of an agreement with him.”

“Like we said, the deceased’s name was Carter, Willie Carter. Died of heart failure two months ago at the age of eighty-two.”

“Where did he work before he retired?” asked Brix.

“Well, technically, I suppose he wasn’t retired. He worked a four-hour shift three days a week at the convenience store on the corner. Seems shitty that at eighty-two, he had to do that, but the bank was threatening to take the property for back taxes owed. Before that, he was a retiree of the Treasury Department. Records, I think.”

“That’s three,” said Major. “We’ve got three of them tied to the Treasury.”

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all, is it?” said Corbin. “I don’t know the details about what he did, but it had something to do with tax records, not personnel.”

“Did you find anything, anything at all?” asked Major.

“Naw, man. Everything was scorched. Not even a piece of paper left behind. Lady across the street said they’d been staying there a few weeks. She thought they were renting it from the bank but never saw them move furniture in. She thinks they were using the staging furniture.”

“Did she see them move out?” asked Alistair.

“Afraid not. We think they moved out in the middle of the night. She did say that the previous owner was an avid bridge player.”

“Bridge? Like the card game?” asked Alistair. Corbin nodded. “Text Sebastian and Em. Let them know that Willie Carter may have been part of this as well. This could get much bigger than we imagined.”

Chief, Hex, Torro, and Chase entered the VA hospital in Pennsylvania and walked toward the reception desk. Every seat in the waiting area was filled, with some patients just standing against the walls. Some of them looked desperate. Others resigned themselves to the fact that they would wait for hours with no resolution to their problem. They were playing the game.

The horrible hospital green walls gave them all chills. Not a painting or photo anywhere, just ridiculous posters about not smoking, avoiding addiction to opioids, and healthy pregnancies. Chief stared at his friends, shaking his head.

“There, but for the grace of God, and Mama Irene, go us,” he frowned.

The reception desk was managing calls and people all at the same time. The two women looked stressed beyond belief, and the lone security guard didn’t seem to care.

The line was five to six deep, and some of the waiting patients weren’t patient at all. When they finally had their opening, the woman looked up at them anxiously.

“We’re not here for an appointment,” said Chase, hoping to settle her nerves. “We’re here to speak to someone about a patient that died not too long ago.”

“Baby, lots of patients die here. If you’re not family, move it along. I can’t, and I won’t give you those records. It’s not legal, and you should know that.” Hex frowned at the woman and leaned on the counter.

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