Page 60 of No Surrender
“Thank you for coming. I know there’s nothing you can do—”
“If we can see Ross, I can get a sense for whether there’s something psychically clinging to him,” Simon told her. “It’s not something the doctors will pick up.”
“As soon as they let us back in, you can come with me,” Sheila said. “They’re doing more assessments. They say he’ll be alright in the long run, but they aren’t sure what limitations he might have in the short term.”
Vic hugged Sheila, and she sobbed for a few minutes on his shoulder. Simon knew that Vic and Ross had been partners since Vic relocated to Myrtle Beach. Ross had been willing to accept a partner who had left Pittsburgh under a cloud for claiming to have seen something supernatural during a hostage situation gone awry. They’d been fast friends ever since, which had included both men’s partners.
“I’ll get coffee,” Simon offered, figuring that Sheila needed a chance to collect herself, and she’d feel most comfortable with Vic. When he returned in a few minutes, the two were sitting side by side and chatting. Vic had an arm around Sheila, who looked much calmer.
“Here you go—what’s a hospital without coffee?” Simon told them as he passed out the cups. He took a sip, unsurprised that the java tasted as bitter as it smelled. Doctors, nurses, and orderlies bustled around them, with a low buzz of conversation and footfalls that never stopped. The ever-present smell of antiseptic curdled Simon’s stomach.
“I swear there was nothing about the grill scraper that seemed off to me,” Sheila told them after a few minutes. “It’s one of those throwing star types that can fit different grates. That’s exactly the kind of thing Ross orders all the time, and the packaging looked like the online store he likes, so I just threw away the envelope and left the scraper on the table.”
Simon heard the guilt in her voice, but they’d already figured out that Judd’s spell only affected the target. No matter how careful Sheila had been, nothing about the item would have triggered any warning.
“It’s not your fault,” Simon replied. “The spell wasn’t for you, so it didn’t harm you. That’s how he’s been able to send his items through the mail without cursing every postal worker who handles them. He’s a clever bastard.”
Vic looked up from where he’d been fussing with his phone. “The grill scraper was from the Bubba Connor BBQ collection. Two years ago, when they were shooting his TV show on location, Bubba slipped and fell and got a concussion. It sidelined him from taping for six months because of headaches and memory problems, but he made a full recovery. So that’s likely to be Ross’s course as well.”
“The fanboy picks items with a history matched to the interests of the person being cursed,” Simon explained. “That includes an injury that puts the target out of commission for a time or hurts them enough to send a warning.”
Sheila shook her head. “Before I met you, I didn’t think any of this stuff was possible.”
“Welcome to my world,” Simon replied ruefully.
“How do we break the curse?” Sheila asked.
“We’re working on that. So far, getting over the injury has taken the natural recovery time,” Vic said. “The fanboy hasn’t picked anything where someone died—yet.”
Sheila took hold of Vic’s hand. “You’ve got to stop him. Not just for Ross, but to keep him from hurting—maybe killing—other people. This is bigger than just the Slitter case.”
Vic squeezed her hand and released it. “One step at a time. We’re working on that.”
A woman in a doctor’s white coat approached them. “Mrs. Hamilton? I’m Dr. Lansing.”
They stood, with Simon and Vic stepping back to give her privacy until Sheila waved them forward. “These are my husband’s police partners. They can hear whatever you have to say.”
Dr. Lansing nodded. “Mr. Hamilton’s concussion isn’t his first, which makes it more serious. Head injuries are always unpredictable. Multiple injuries compound, so there’s always more risk. We want to observe Mr. Hamilton overnight and make sure we’ve assessed his injury correctly. When he’s released, you’ll have a checklist of things to watch for. I have every reason to believe he’ll make a complete recovery, but nothing is ever guaranteed.”
“He’s going to want to know when he can go back to work,” Sheila replied with a wan smile. “What do I tell him? He’s in the middle of an important case.”
The doctor didn’t look surprised. “Tell him—‘it depends.’”
“He’ll love that,” Vic muttered.
The physician chuckled. “Why am I not surprised? Here’s what I mean. If he follows the treatment plan, he’ll get better faster. There’s the incentive for compliance. That’s the best I can offer. If he pushes too far too fast and over-extends, it’ll delay his recovery and make his symptoms worse.”
“Understood,” Sheila replied. “Thank you. May we see him now?”
Dr. Lansing nodded. “I’m only supposed to let one person in at a time, but I’ll make an exception this once. Please don’t be long, and don’t do anything to make him agitated. He needs rest and calm.”
They thanked her and headed for Ross’s room, letting Sheila take the lead.
Vic caught his breath when they saw Ross sitting up in his hospital bed. Simon steadied his partner with a hand to his shoulder.
Ross looked like he’d gone nine rounds with a champ and lost. He had two black eyes and a nasty bruise on the left side of his face. His hair had been shaved to allow for stitches, and his left arm was in a sling.
Ross’s worried expression brightened when he spotted Sheila. “Hey, babe. Guess what? I still remember who you are. Good news, right?”
