Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4)

by Matt Lincoln

  “Let’s have Howard analyze it,” I said as I took the bag from Junior. “Before we get all worked up over it.”

  “He’s right,” Wallace nodded. “We need to have all the facts before we jump to any conclusions.”

  I could hear my fellow agents chattering behind me as I walked toward Howard’s office. The bottle didn’t look unusual. Nothing about the label or the plastic bottle itself seemed to indicate that it was a fake. I was pretty sure I had an identical one in my own medicine cabinet. The thought sent shivers down my spine as I entered Howard’s office.

  “Hey, Agent Howard!” I called as I moved toward him. “We have a substance we need you to analyze.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks as Howard slammed his fist down hard against the table in front of him. His back was turned to me, and his hunched form looked disconcerting in the low light of the room.

  “Please,” he gritted out as she slowly turned to look at me. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. It startles me when people barge into my office like that.”

  “Sorry,” I apologized as I looked him over. There was a vein throbbing on the side of his head, and the tips of his knuckles were white as he clenched his fists tightly. “You doing okay, man?”

  It seemed Howard suddenly realized I was observing him because all at once, he relaxed and an unsettling smile broke out across his face.

  “I’m fine,” he replied, all the earlier strain from his voice gone. “Agent Castillo came in here earlier this morning, and I guess I was already a little annoyed. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, though. I’d just really appreciate it if people would knock in the future.”

  “Of course,” I replied stiltedly. His demeanor had changed so suddenly and drastically that I was a little more concerned now than I had been when he was acting angrily. He sounded perfectly calm and composed, but that in itself was unsettling. It wasn’t normal for someone to swing so easily between moods like that.

  “Did you need something, Agent Hills?” Howard prompted.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “We need an analysis of the contents of this bottle ASAP. We think whatever’s inside is what’s causing people to become violent.”

  “I see,” he responded as he took the evidence bag from me gingerly. He was scrutinizing it, and despite his earlier outburst, he seemed to be conducting himself professionally now. “I’ll have it ready as soon as I can.”

  “Great,” I replied as I turned to leave the dark office. I’d never minded the dark, but something about that interaction had left me wanting to return to the brightly lit and open bullpen as soon as possible.

  Wallace had returned to his office by the time I got back, and Fiona and Miranda were having some kind of disagreement about sandwiches and hot dogs.

  “I’m just saying,” Miranda smirked. “They both involve a meat filling inside two pieces of bread. They’re technically the same thing.”

  “Hey,” I interrupted before Fiona would retort. “Have you guys noticed Howard acting weird?”

  “Doesn’t he always act weird?” Miranda countered.

  “I mean more than usual,” I clarified. It was true that Agent Howard had been reclusive and unfriendly the entire time I’d been working there. I went most days without ever seeing him, and he’d never hung out with any of the agents outside of work, or even at work for that matter.

  “Not really,” Miranda shrugged. “The guy’s a weirdo. That’s just how he is.”

  “That isn’t very nice,” Fiona frowned reproachfully at her.

  Miranda grimaced guiltily. I knew that Fiona had been bullied when she was younger, and as her friend, I assumed Miranda must know more about it than I did.

  “You’re right,” Miranda sighed. “That was crappy of me. I didn’t mean it in a bad way, though. I just meant that he’s not a social person, and we shouldn’t bother him about it. If he wants to stay cooped up in his lair all the time, that’s his business.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Fiona conceded. “I do sometimes feel bad for him, though.”

  I didn’t really share Fiona’s sentiments. As long as he did his job well, I agreed with Miranda that we should just let him be. If he didn’t want to socialize, we shouldn’t harass him about it. If it hadn’t been for Junior’s needling when I first started here, I probably would have ended up the same way. I didn’t regret making friends with all my coworkers, but I could understand Howard’s perspective too. Still, I couldn’t brush off the uncomfortable feeling I had that something wasn’t quite right with him lately.

  8

  Junior

  “Alright, everyone,” Nelson announced at a little past three. “Agent Howard said that the results should be ready in a few hours. Instead of just waiting around, though, I think it’d be better if you all headed home early today and came in a few hours early tomorrow. That way, we can get a fresh start on the case with the results in hand.”

  I listened as Nelson dismissed us two hours early. On a typical day, we worked an ordinary nine-to-five at the office, but it wasn’t unusual for us to have to come in early or stay late, depending on the case we happened to be working on. We didn’t have much left to do aside from wait for the results, so it made sense for us to go home instead of just sitting around twiddling our thumbs. Honestly, I wasn’t upset about it. Hearing that I was under suspicion of being involved in Prudence Evans’ death had rattled me. Fortunately, Miranda and Naomi had alleviated my fears when they’d informed us that most of the perps had died of overdoses. That made it almost entirely certain that Prudence had just died as a side effect of the drug and not from anything I did during my brief tussle with her.

  I began gathering up my things and flinched as pain lanced up my arm and over my shoulder. The cause of the pain wasn’t the cut I’d received earlier that day but rather from the old bullet wound in my arm from a few months ago. During our last major case, I’d been shot in the shoulder by a suspect while helping Charlie look for his missing niece. As a result, I’d suffered some nerve damage. At first, the doctors were hopeful about a full recovery, but as time went on and I continued to have pain and mobility issues, my prospects looked grim. Every day, it seemed more and more likely that the damage would be permanent.

  Recently, I’d noticed that the injury would hurt any time I used that arm to do anything more strenuous than holding a pencil or lifting a coffee cup. Since it was my dominant hand and the one I used to hold a gun, I found myself in pain more and more frequently.

  “Hey,” Fiona suddenly appeared at my desk, and I quickly relaxed my expression before she could notice. I hadn’t told anyone I was still having issues with my shoulder. I didn’t want them to think I couldn’t do my job anymore, so I’d just kept quiet. It wasn’t like it bothered me very frequently, so I was sure I’d be able to keep it secret if I just kept my mouth shut any time I had a flare-up.

  “Hey,” I smiled back. “You ready to go?”

  “I am,” she replied. “I think it’ll do everyone some good to step away from the case for a little while. We’ve all been running at full speed since we heard the details. We’re liable to make mistakes if we keep this up.”

  “That’s a good point,” I agreed as I stood up from my desk. “Though it’s hard not to get worked up when it involves so many innocent people.”

  “I know what you mean,” Fiona sighed. “All crime is bad, of course. But it’s so scary to think that normal people just minding their own business could be suddenly pulled into a crime because they happened to catch a cold. Why would someone do something like this?”

  “To create pandemonium?” I shrugged. “That seems like the most likely conclusion, anyway. Why else would someone go around spiking medicine if it wasn’t just to inflict terror?”

  “Yeah,” Fiona nodded. “But what’s the real reason? It’s easy to say that terrorists do things to cause terror, but there’s always some ulterior motive. Every group has something driving them: religion, anger toward the government, or hatred towar
d a specific race or gender. There’s always something, so what is this guy trying to achieve by hurting all these random people?”

  “It can’t be racially or sexually motivated,” I frowned. “If it was, they would be specifically targeting churches or women’s support groups or something. Whoever did this didn’t care who was impacted, as evidenced by the fact that the victims all ranged in age, gender, and socio-economic status. We can probably rule out the idea that he’s after either rich or poor people, too.”

  “Don’t forget that drug addicts were the first ones targeted,” Fiona countered. “The majority of the victims in the first cases were indigent or living on the poverty level. I’m not sure what that means, but it must be significant, right?”

  “It’s bizarre,” I agreed as I racked my brain for an answer. Fiona was right that there must be some ulterior motive here, but I couldn’t figure out what it could be.

  “Nevermind,” Fiona suddenly snapped. “I was just saying that we need to step away from the case before we burn ourselves out. Let’s get some rest, and we can re-examine everything tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I smiled. I realized everyone had already left the office by that point. “Let’s get going then.”

  We headed out of the office and down the elevator in companionable silence. I’d noticed since the beginning that silences had never been awkward between the two of us, only comfortable.

  “Hey,” Fiona beamed at me once we were in the parking lot. “What do you want to do for Halloween? It’s just a few days away.”

  I knitted my brows together as I considered her question. Most holidays in Las Vegas could get pretty wild. Halloween could get especially crazy when you factored in people wandering the streets in disguise, partaking in drugs and alcohol as freely as in candy. It was sure to be a good party, but I wasn’t sure if it was the kind of thing I’d really enjoy.

  “I might just stay in,” I shrugged. “Watch some scary movies and eat some candy.”

  “Aw,” Fiona pouted at my answer. “That’s so boring. Come out with me. It’ll be so much fun, and I really don’t want to go by myself.”

  She looked really excited by the prospect, and I just couldn’t find it in me to say no. Fiona had come a long way from the shy, reclusive woman she’d been when we’d first met, and I was happy that she was being more outgoing and enjoying things away from her computer screen.

  “Okay,” I conceded. “Although it might not be the greatest idea to go out at all with everything going on.”

  “We can’t just stop living our lives because of that,” Fiona argued. “There will always be some new threat lurking around the corner. If we hide at home every time something bad happens, we’ll never be able to go outside again. Plus, we’re both armed federal agents. I think we can handle pretty much anything between the two of us.”

  “I guess that’s true,” I agreed.

  “Besides,” she shrugged, “that’ll just motivate us to solve this case that much faster.”

  I chuckled at her optimism and was just about to open the passenger side door for her when I heard a man’s scream. I looked up at Fiona, whose face had gone white at the noise. A second later, we both took off, running toward the sound of the scream. As we sprinted around the side of the office building, I caught sight of a man standing on the other side of the street.

  “Death is approaching!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. His face was red, and his fists were clenched at his sides. “I warned you! I warned all of you! The end is here!” He was walking down the street slowly as he continued to scream. He turned to look at us as we came to a stop and immediately ceased his rant.

  The glare he threw at us was piercing, and I instinctively reached for the gun at my hip.

  “Wait,” Fiona hissed as she gripped my arm with her hand. I gritted my teeth as a flash of pain shot up to my shoulder. “He might be harmless.”

  “You don’t think he’s taken the drug?” I whispered back.

  The man was staring at us unblinkingly. It was unnerving. Mrs. Evans had been behaving in a similar erratic manner right before she attacked me. If this man had taken the same drug, then there was a pretty high chance he was about to come at us at any moment.

  “Are you alright, sir?” Fiona called. Her voice was clear and confident, but I could tell by the way she was gripping my arm tightly that she was nervous.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business?” the man spat. Suddenly, his glare felt far less menacing. “Stupid kids, always butting into other people’s business. I’m trying to warn people here. Stupid kids…” He continued to mumble about us as he slowly shuffled away.

  “Should we do something?” Fiona asked. “Take him to the hospital or something?”

  “We can’t,” I frowned. “Not legally. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Screaming about the end of the world isn’t illegal. Technically, being high isn’t illegal either. Unless we have a solid reason to believe he is or is about to break the law, we can’t force him to do anything.”

  “We should at least call the cops then,” Fiona said as she pulled her phone out of her purse. “Give them a heads up to keep an eye out. If he does start to become violent, at least they’ll be prepared.”

  I nodded at her suggestion, but I wasn’t really satisfied. Legal red tape prevented us from taking the man into custody or to a hospital against his will, but if he was high on the new substance and later attacked someone, it might be too late for anyone to do anything about it.

  I heard her speak on the phone, and at one point, she warned them that the man might become aggressive. I really hoped they would actually heed the warning and keep their eyes on the area. Hopefully, we were just being overly cautious, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  “Alright,” she sighed as she tucked her phone back into her bag. “I told them. They said they’ll increase patrols in this area.”

  “Great,” I replied sarcastically. The experience had soured the relaxed mood that Fiona and I had been in earlier while discussing Halloween plans. It made me realize just how little time we had to spare.

  “Come on,” Fiona tried cheering me up. “I’ll make us some dinner. Beau will be happy to see you.”

  “Okay,” I responded, doing my best to return her smile. Fiona’s fluffy little dog Beau was adorable, and usually, I’d be excited at the prospect of seeing him, but I just couldn’t get my mind off the homeless man. I sincerely hoped he hadn’t taken any of the new drug.

  9

  Charlie

  I took a sip of my coffee as I watched the morning news. I’d woken up earlier than usual that morning and had been unable to fall asleep. I just couldn’t stop going over the details of the case. In the end, I’d decided to get dressed and move to the couch in the living room to watch some TV before work. The attacks had been the hottest topic of conversation last night, and it seemed like the trend had continued into the morning.

  “So far, the police have confirmed ten separate attacks,” the polished young news anchor reported. “Though there may be many more that have yet to be discovered. Because of the unusual nature of the attacks, it’s difficult to determine whether an assault was a part of this larger rash of unexplained aggressive behavior or--”

  I turned off the TV and chugged the rest of my coffee. I could understand that people might be concerned about a drug that could suddenly cause someone to become violent, but the last thing we needed was a media circus. Especially since we still didn’t know what the perpetrator behind these attacks wanted to achieve. If it was to gain fame or notoriety, then the media was playing right into their hands.

  I placed my cup down on the table a little too hard before standing up from the couch. I pulled my jacket off the kitchen chair and shrugged it on. It was nearly November now and unusually cold for Las Vegas. Of course, this meant that more people were getting seasonal bugs. As I stepped through the front door of my apartment, I desperately hoped that we were wrong about the cough syrup being the s
ource of the new drug.

  The traffic on my way to work that morning was slightly lighter than usual since I was heading in two hours early. As a result, I made it to the office with time to spare.

  I could feel the tense atmosphere as soon as I stepped into the office. Junior and Fiona were already there and were gathered in the bullpen with Wallace and Nelson.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.

  “Agent Howard confirmed that the bottles both contained illicit substances,” Wallace answered gravely. “The same drugs that were identified in Dominick Evans’s toxicology report, as well as a few others that metabolized before we were even able to detect them. Those bottles are a veritable cocktail of so many drugs. It’s astounding that Simone Montague is alive right now.”

  “Miranda did say that she was in really rough shape,” Fiona muttered. “That poor woman.”

  I turned toward the door as I heard the keypad’s telltale beep. Miranda and Naomi stepped inside, laden down with cups of coffee and a box of doughnuts.

  “Good morning!” Miranda called. “We got coffee.”

  “I’m surprised everyone is here so early,” Naomi commented as she glanced around the room. “We thought that everyone might appreciate a bit of caffeine given the early hour.”

  “Oh, no,” Miranda scowled as she stepped closer and noticed our grim expressions. “It’s the cough medicine, isn’t it? Damn.”

  “It is,” Nelson nodded.

  “So, what is this then?” Miranda asked angrily as she slammed the box of doughnuts onto the nearest desk. Naomi did the same with the coffee, though significantly more gently. “Some kind of modern-day version of the Tylenol Murders of Nineteen-Eighty-Two?”

  “That is a possibility,” Wallace nodded. “Though it would be nearly impossible. After that case, the FDA put extreme measures in place to ensure it would never happen again. Plastic seals and cotton balls are used now for that very reason. We would have heard by now if people were finding bottles of cough syrup with broken seals.”