The one cop sighed, and Corbin knew that sigh anywhere. He’d done it himself a few times, too.
“Goddamn it. That’s my new case. Why the hell is the FBI fighting so goddamn hard to get this case back?” he asked. “We were just handed it. I swear to God, if the FBI spent half its time actually working and less time playing judge roulette, the crime on this island would be so much lower!”
Oh, hell, no.
He wasn’t sure what the problem was, but the FBI agents he worked with were balls to the wall, and they didn’t fuck around.
They dug in to find out.
So, Corbin was honest, and defended them.
“The agents handling Aaron’s case aren’t from the island,” he offered.
The men didn’t look any happier.
“But why are they yanking jurisdiction. We just got Aaron’s case back. This is lame as shit.”
Corbin went there.
“Because last night, the agent who had been working it before it was handed back to you showed up dead, and this was the last case he was working. Before that, the cop was killed working on a case that’s all tied to this. There’s a trail, and in order for us to handle it, we needALLof the cases.”
They got quiet.
FAST.
One of the cops felt bad.
Clearly.
“Hey, we’re sorry one of the agents here got hurt. They aren’t bad dudes,” he admitted. “And my name is Yandriel Potter, but everyone calls me Yand.”
Corbin had a few questions.
The old him would assume.
Well, the old him had learned that was a dangerous thing. So, these detectives were about to play a little game called‘talk to the Feds’.
“Well, if you feel bad, then, you certainly don’t mind helping me out,” he admitted.
They all looked at each other.
Yeah, Corbin was pulling a Gene, doing exactly what he would do. Now, they couldn’t say no, or they’d look…problematic.
Or guilty.
“I have the notes from Aaron’s case files, but I’m curious. He was found with markings all over him. Did you get anywhere with them?” he asked the cop handling the case.
Yandriel nodded.
“Voodoo. I just updated the captain this morning. I started tracking those symbols back to a part of the island that is heavily into spiritualism. You know, sacrificing chickens, dancing in the sand circle, and Voodoo.”
Corbin was curious.
“Where did it lead you?” he asked, pulling out a little notebook to start making notes.
Yandriel was to the point.
“There’s this club calledDark Spirits. It’s a nightclub of sorts, but it’s owned by this priestess. There, she has a bunch of‘la brujas’working. They will read your palms, tea leaves, and all kinds of shit as the beer is flowing. I found out that she had worked for Jaden Mendin, and he fired her two years ago. Apparently, she was a problem. How? I don’t know. Like I said, I just got my claws into this.”
