Page 39 of No Surrender
“I’ll see what I can do,” Ted replied. “Talk to you soon.”
“And while Ted’s doing his FBI thing, I want to read over the results from the search I ran,” Vic said, sitting back as Ross headed for the station.
“I’ll bet you a box of donuts that Bert’s clean,” Ross replied. “All hat and no cattle as they say in Texas. Living in a fantasy world.”
Vic frowned. “Yeah, but if he’s sending the cursed objects, something’s changed. Maybe he watched from afar with the eighties killer and even with the Slitter until Fischer got caught. Thompson got away with murder, but now Fischer’s going to trial. Maybe Judd thinks his hero needs his help.”
“And in the meantime, he’s been brushing up on dark magic?”
“Plenty of people in these parts know about paying someone to ‘put a root’ on an enemy,” Vic said. “Simon’s friend Miss Eppie won’t do curses, but you can bet there are other folks who’ll do whatever a paying customer wants—which probably makes them even more dangerous because they might not be as skilled. Sloppy magic is like a homemade bomb. No telling how it’s really going to work.”
“Hey, Vic—this doesn’t look good.”
Vic’s head snapped up as they approached the police station. More reporters than usual clustered around the front entrance as an ambulance carefully edged its way through the press of bodies. Flash photos and video cameras crowded the rescue vehicle, and the journalists didn’t yield easily as uniformed officers attempted to clear a path.
“Fuck,” Vic muttered. “What now?”
The uniforms held back the tide of bodies to let Ross pull into the lot. Even with the windows rolled up, Vic could hear them shouting.
“Can you give us a statement?”
“Is the Slitter trial cursed?”
“Is it true someone is working hoodoo against the Prosecution?”
“How did the Myrtle Beach Police Department lose control of the situation?”
Thankfully, the heavily tinted windows kept the crowd from seeing inside, but Vic could make out the microphones and cameras as well as the faces of the reporters. He recognized several from the evening news but didn’t see Walt among them.
Vic and Ross ignored the shouts outside the gate as they hurried through the station’s back door. Vic’s heart sank when they entered. It didn’t take a psychic to read the room, not with the expressions of fear and confusion on every face.
“What happened? Who got hurt?” Ross barked.
“Captain Hargrove had a serious allergic reaction,” Stu Decker told them, a patrol officer who often worked cases with them.
“To what?” Vic questioned. “He never said anything about allergies.”
Ross shook his head. “I don’t remember knowing he had any.”
Decker shrugged. “Well, that’s sure what it looked like. He went down fast, started swelling up, couldn’t breathe. One of the guys called 911, and the dispatcher said to use an EpiPen. The ambulance got here in minutes—you just missed all the excitement.”
“What was Cap doing right before he got hit?” Vic asked.
Decker gestured toward Hargrove’s office. “Paperwork, going through his mail. There hasn’t been time to pick up when he dropped everything.”
“Don’t touch anything,” Ross ordered. “There’s a good chance whatever triggered the reaction is with those envelopes.”
“You mean like back when someone mailed anthrax?” Decker asked.
“Sort of,” Vic hedged. He glanced at Ross. “I hate to drag Simon through the gauntlet out there, but we need him to look at the stuff.”Why didn’t Hargrove’s hex bag protect him? Or didn’t he have it on him since he felt safe inside the station?
“Call him, and I’ll arrange a patrol car to pick him up,” Ross replied. “That’ll make it easier to get him past the cameras.”
“Stu—can you keep us updated on how the captain is doing? He doesn’t need the whole squad down there, but if there’s anything we can do to help, we need to know,” Vic said.
“I’m on it,” Decker promised.
Within half an hour, Simon arrived. “Is Hargrove okay?” he asked as soon as he spotted Vic and Ross.
