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But Laura’s troubles were just beginning. Because of what had happened, she’d lost three volunteers who were now too spooked to return, and another volunteer had called in sick, and she didn’t know if he was actually ill or too scared to come back. When Cameron and Wade showed up in her office, her concern increased yet again.
“If you have bad news, don’t tell me,” she said.
Cameron frowned. “I’m so sorry about all this. We just wanted to let you know we won’t be staying here anymore.”
Laura sat down in her chair and managed a shaky smile.
“Well, that’s good news and bad news.”
“Does that mean you might miss us?” Cameron asked, trying to tease her.
“I might,” she said, and then waved a hand as if dismissing the topic. “So, was this visit just an apology, or is there something I can do for you?”
“Have any volunteers quit after last night?” Wade asked.
“Yes. Three quit and one called in sick. I don’t know if he’s really sick, or if he just doesn’t want to admit he’s too scared to return.”
“We need a list of names and contact information,” Wade said.
Laura nodded. “Give me a couple of minutes. I need to pull up the info.” Then she added, “You do realize that this list only verifies their driver’s licenses and the fact that they don’t have a criminal record. I know Bell slipped past it, but in traumatic situations, no one expects a bad guy to come help the Red Cross, so I can’t say how carefully the results are monitored.”
“I understand,” Wade said. “Right now I just need the names of the people who were here and either quit or didn’t show.”
She got out her cell phone and scanned her contact list, making notes as she came to the names, and then handed the page to Wade.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome and good luck,” she said.
“Take care,” Cameron added, and then they were gone.
* * *
Hershel had been running a fever ever since he woke up. He’d taken aspirin, but it wasn’t doing much good, and he hated taking himself out of the picture at such a vital time. He wanted to know what was going on, but being stuck here in bed, he had no way of knowing.
You’re sick because God is punishing you.
He rolled over in bed and thumped his pillow.
“Louise, stop talking. I’m sick. The least you could do is take pity and stop talking.”
You didn’t have any pity when you killed all those people in cold blood. If I wasn’t already dead, I would divorce you. This isn’t the man I married.
“You’re right. I’m not the man you married. That man lost his mind when he lost you, and this is what’s left. Now either shut the hell up or bring me something cold to drink. I’m on fire.”
You know I can’t help you anymore. You have to help yourself.
Hershel moaned, then threw back the covers and staggered to the bathroom to get a drink and take more aspirin. He made it to bed and collapsed, trembling in every joint. It occurred to him that he could have caught some disease from being in the floodwaters. Every nasty thing he could imagine had been in that water, and after finding that motorboat caught in some debris up against the riverbank, he’d been in that water, too. He’d considered the boat a little gift from the Fates, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Maybe I got typhoid fever or something,” he mumbled, and then rolled over and closed his eyes. “And maybe I’ll die.”
* * *
One of the volunteers who’d quit was a woman, and the agents quickly cleared her. It wasn’t the arrest of Judd Allen that had put her off, it was the attack on Nola Landry. Until the Stormchaser was arrested, she was sticking close to home.
They understood, didn’t blame her and moved on to the next person on the list: a man named Russell Warren. They found him in the backyard of his house, working on his truck. When he saw them drive up, he put down his tools and went to meet them, wiping grease from his hands as he went.
“Russell Warren?”