Spivey stewed in the back of the FBI agent’s car. He had failed. He was so close, but in the end he had let Mac down. The Gray Rise was going to strike, he was sure of it, and a lot of innocent people were going to die.
The dispatcher’s voice diverted his attention away from his masterful inner condemnation. “All units be advised: Command dispatch is looking for THP Corporal Maggie Armstrong’s 10-20.”
Spivey turned to look out the window and watch the FBI agents shooting the shit and acting like they didn’t have a care in the world. He wanted to pound their faces to dust.
“We’ve got an off-grid, priority-one message for her from a Dani Savage.”
Spivey’s head snapped around, and he stared at the radio wide-eyed.
“Repeat, command dispatch has an off-grid, priority-one message from a Dani Savage for Corporal Maggie Armstrong. We need her 10-20 ASAP. Over.”
Spivey screamed, “Hey! Open the door! Open the goddamn door!”
The main agent looked his way and smirked, but otherwise ignored his pleas.
Spivey lay down in the seat and started pounding the window with the bottom of his feet. “Open the goddamn door! Open the goddamn door…”
The door ripped open and the agent barked, “Hey! Straighten your shit up or we’re shipping you to a psychiatric unit…”
Spivey sat up. “Call Corporal Maggie Armstrong with the state police!”
“Just calm down and we’ll…”
“Get Corporal Armstrong on the phone now!”
“I’m not…”
“Get her on the fucking phone or you’re gonna have to explain to your bosses that you could have stopped a massacre if you’d just made one fucking phone call! One!”
The agent sighed. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s her number?”
Spivey hesitated and then said, “I don’t fucking know.”
“Seriously? You ask me to…”
“There’s state patrol all over this fucking campus. Ask one of them.”
“Forget it…”
“One call! You can still stop it!”
The agent grunted and turned to his colleagues. He directed them to get on the horn with the state police and find Corporal Maggie Armstrong.