Page 8 of Thunder Road

“About as well as you’d expect.” Vic took a swig of his coffee and wished he was off duty to have a shot of something stronger. “This is South Carolina. Half the population is going to blame the Rapture, and the other half is going to think it’s a secret government death ray.”

“Do you want me to come down there and make a statement?” Simon asked.

Vic sighed. He hated dragging Simon into what might become a high-profile case once the media heard about it, but he didn’t see another option. “Yeah. Since you were maybe the last person he talked to.”

“If I park in the back and you let me in the staff door, anyone watching might just think I was visiting my husband,” Simon suggested. “That keeps the rumor mill from getting ahead of us.”

“Sounds like a plan. Do you mind bringing dinner with you? Ross is here too. We’re both fine with meatball subs. Make it easy.”

“Will do. Give me time to order, and I’ll be over.” Simon ended the call. Vic looked up to see Ross’s questioning expression.

“Simon did a séance with the missing motorcyclist earlier today. He’s coming over to give a statement. You’d better sit in on it if there’s nothing else going on. It’s going to be a strange one,” Vic told him.

Half an hour later, Simon showed up with warm subs, cold drinks, and a dozen Hot Now donuts.

“Bless you,” Ross told Simon as they unpacked the food in the break room. “I really didn’t want dinner from the vending machine—again.”

“I had to eat anyhow,” Simon replied. “And I wasn’t going to cook since Vic wouldn’t be home.”

They kept the conversation light as they ate, chatting about the weather, the big-name concerts playing locally, and the wind-down to the tourist season. When they finished eating, they moved to the interview room. Simon and Vic took up seats at the table across from each other. Ross sat in a chair in the corner.

“Okay. Tell me what happened.” Vic started the recording.

“We got a phone call from Edwards, who wanted a psychic reading as soon as possible,” Simon told them. “He didn’t say why, but said it was urgent. I fit him in, and then Pete did some background research.”

“Do you usually look up your new customers?” Vic asked.

“Not always. For most people, there wouldn’t be much to see except their social media. I generally prefer not to have preconceived ideas when I meet someone so I can be open to what I pick up from them in person.” Simon seemed to be trying not to use language that might seem too woo-woo to someone reading the notes.

“But you did look up Edwards. Why?”

Vic kept his tone moderate, reminding himself again that Simon wasn’t a suspect. The situation felt uncomfortably like the early days in their relationship when he was aggressively skeptical about psychic abilities. Plenty of first-hand experience had changed his mind.

“Something seemed off,” Simon replied. “Pete picked up on it before I did because he took the call. Edwards seemed a littlepanicky. I get clients like that sometimes who want a psychic reading and are really looking for a prediction or advice. Should they accept the job? Is the person they’re dating the right one? That sort of thing.”

“What was off about Edwards wanting a séance?”

“The urgency. The things people want to say to those who have passed aren’t usually time-dependent. They want to apologize or make things right or say goodbye,” Simon replied. “Occasionally, a client wants to know where the deceased hid the life insurance policies or extra cash, or they need some detail for important paperwork. But that’s as urgent as it gets.”

“Did you worry that researching the client’s background might color the information you provided?” Vic didn’t believe that, but he knew someone less familiar with Simon and psychics was bound to ask.

“No. Like I said, it struck Pete as odd, and he had already looked into a lot before he told me about Edwards. We get clients of all ages and walks of life. But in general, hard-core motorcyclists don’t stop in often.”

“Go on.”

“We knew the big rally was coming up—it’s fall, so there will be lots of bikes in town. But when Pete looked up the club, he found rumors about the group being cursed. He dug deeper because that sort of thing—if it’s true—can make a reading dangerous if I’m not prepared.”

“How?” Vic wanted the answers for the record, even though he had worked enough supernatural cases with Simon to understand the process.

“In my world, curses are real. If a witch with real ability has put a root or a hex on a person, I need to know that before I use my abilities. Otherwise, the combination can be bad. Sort of like a supernatural version of mixing bleach and ammonia.”

Vic knew Simon was doing his best to explain for any listeners who didn’t know much about the paranormal or didn’t fully believe it was real. He and Simon had gotten past that point long ago.

Simon twisted his wedding ring, and Vic read the fidgeting to mean his husband was tired and stressed. He knew how much a major spirit reading could take out of Simon, and he likely hadn’t had time to rest between then and now.

“Back to the séance. Can you please, for the record, walk us through what happened?”

Simon looked at the microphone. “Normally, I do my best to keep those conversations in confidence, even though I know that provider-client privilege doesn’t apply. But since Mr. Edwards is dead and the conversation is directly related, I’m volunteering the information.”

---