“What’s happening?” Flower demanded, her voice rising to a screech.
“Just do it,” Goss snapped, and turned off the walkie-talkie. He was sweating badly and there were starbursts of red on his cheeks. Damp winds blew up the slope and rifled his sweaty hair.
“Rain’s coming,” said JT, still pitching his voice to keep things in neutral. “And with these winds … I don’t think we’re going to be able to use helos or spotter planes.”
“Rain and wind won’t stop the dogs,” said Sheldon. “The Zimmers have hounds that can track a weak fart in a hurricane.”
Dez looked at the chief, whose expression was that of someone a short step away from screaming. Dez could understand it. Like most of these officers, Goss was a career cop in a town where there just wasn’t any serious action. Bar fights and DUIs don’t instill the same combat awareness that big city cops and veteran soldiers have. This was way beyond Goss’s experience and he was losing control of the details. “Chief,” she said, pitching her tone to match JT’s, “we have people all over the place and we don’t know if this is the end of this. Shouldn’t we get a head count?”
Goss blinked at her for a few moments as if she had asked the question in Swahili. Then understanding flicked back into his eyes, and he nodded. “A head count. Good, good…” He looked around as if he expected everyone to be there ready to be counted.
She glanced at JT, whose brown face seemed to be carved from an inflexible hunk of mahogany though his eyes were bright and almost unblinking. He was trying to keep his game face in place, but he was at the edge, too. Even Sheldon, who had been in Afghanistan, was freaked.
Dez swallowed.
Then Goss grabbed his walkie-talkie again and keyed it to the team channel. “All officers report in. Name, location, and status.”
One by one the calls came back. Paul Scott, two paramedics, and another forensics collector were in the mortuary. Five officers — all from other towns — were here with Goss, JT, and Dez. That left two unaccounted for.
“Wait — who’s missing?” asked JT.
Dez said, “Wait, who was it that went up to check on Doc’s sister and her kids?”
Goss cursed and keyed the walkie-talkie again. “Hold the air. Officers Gunther and Howard, report your location and status.”
Then there was sharp hiss of static and a voice spoke intermittently through the squelch.
“We’re at the Hartnup place. Nothing to report. I thought I heard shots. I called Flower but she—”
Goss cut him off. “Did you tell April about her brother?”
“You said not to.”
“Good, because he might not be dead.”
Gunther paused. “Say again?”
“It’s not confirmed, but be aware that Doc Hartnup’s body is missing and there is a strong possibility that he is injured and in shock, maybe delirious, and somewhere in the Grove.”
“How? Chief … I thought Dez and JT said he was—”
Goss cut him off. “Don’t ask me how ’cause I don’t know. Just keep your eyes open. Doc might be trying to head to his sister’s place. I want one of you on the porch and the other inside with the family. Do not let April see her brother if you can avoid it, and definitely not the kids. You see him — or anyone — call it in right away.”
“Yeah, okay, Chief.”
Goss disconnected. If he was relieved by what Gunther had told him, it didn’t show. Fresh beads of sweat glistened on his head. Dez was afraid he was going to stroke out if things didn’t calm down. “The staties will be here soon,” Goss repeated. He looked around, licking his lips with a nervous tongue tip. “We need to secure this crime scene and also where … um … Natalie was…”
One of the other officers said, “I got that.” He tapped another cop from the same town and they set off down the slope, following Dez’s directions.
“I want in on the manhunt,” protested Dez. “We should be out there now so we can get a jump on—”
“On who?” snapped Goss. “Do you know what the hell’s going on? ’Cause I sure as shit don’t. We got a double homicide at the mortuary that turned out not to be a double homicide. One vic attacks you and the other goes for a stroll in the forest. We have an officer-involved shooting of one of those presumed homicide victims. We got an unknown person in bare feet leaving the scene of the crime; and we don’t know how or if he was involved. We also have the theft of the body of a dead serial killer. And now we have three dead officers and one who’s gone completely batshit nuts.”
“Chief, I—”
“So you tell me, Officer Fox … exactly what crime scenario are we trying to get a jump on? If it wasn’t for the fact that all of this is happening right here and right now, I couldn’t build a reasonable argument that they’re all part of the same goddamn case.”
Dez clamped her mouth shut. She had no answers and it was clear that arguing with Goss was likely to end badly. She didn’t like the man, but she didn’t actually want to cause the big vein in his head to explode.
“Okay, Chief, we hear you,” said JT gently. “If you had to make a horseback guess, what would you say is going on?”
Goss eyed him for a blistering moment. “How the fuck should I know?”
“Chief,” said JT, moving closer, his voice ever quieter, “I think we should dial it down a few notches, what do you think?”
The chief took a deep breath that threatened to pop buttons on his shirt, then he exhaled slowly, nodding. “Christ. I don’t need this shit. I really don’t.”
Dez couldn’t argue with that.
“Maybe this isn’t a murder scene,” suggested Sheldon, who had also managed to regain control of his emotions. “Look, you got ordinary people suddenly doing some mighty weird shit. Inexplicable shit. Maybe this isn’t people committing crimes … maybe this is something else. Something that’s affecting people. Y’know, like a toxic spill, or something in the water…”
They all looked at each other and the idea changed the mood as abruptly as switching stations with a TV remote. Even Goss’s posture relaxed as he stared into the middle distance, considering the question.
“I don’t think it’s in the water, Shel,” said Dez slowly. “Andy got here after Doc and the Russian woman were attacked. And I didn’t see him take a drink after he got here. Not tap water or anything.”
“Whatever it was,” JT said, “it must have hit Strauss or Schneider, too. I mean … look at Andy’s throat. He didn’t do that to himself.”
Goss paled. “So, you’re saying that we have another one out there?”
“Stands to reason,” said Dez. “Could even be Doc, if this thing affects people. Or it could be whoever left the bare footprints that went out of the mortuary office.”
“Maybe it’s something you get from a bite,” suggested Sheldon. “Somebody bit the cleaning lady and then she went apeshit on Dez, right? Maybe the same thing happened to Andy. He got bit, got sick, and freaked out.”
“Isn’t that awful fast for an infection to spread?” asked JT. “Doesn’t that sort of thing take days?”
“I’m just saying that we need to look at it,” Sheldon said.
“Could it be something in the air?” asked one of the officers who still knelt to keep Diviny pinned down.
“If so, we’d all have it,” countered Dez.
“A virus,” said JT. “Not everyone reacts the same way to diseases.”
Sheldon nodded. “Allergens, too. Some weird plant the Doc brought in for a funeral. Or a chemical he uses. Maybe certain people are susceptible to it.”
Suddenly everyone was throwing suggestions at him while, on the ground, Andy Diviny still writhed and tried to bite.
Finally Goss held up his hand. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. If you have a theory, then we share it with the state police and the doctors.” He pointed at Diviny. “Right now, though, we need to get him tested. Dez, JT … get him into an ambulance and get his ass over to Wolverton Hospital. Call ahead, tell them that this is a potential biohazard situation.”
