Page 12 of No Surrender
“Alicia’s ghost isn’t gone. She just didn’t have the strength to stay longer, even borrowing energy from me. If you give her a week or so to rest, you could talk to her again,” Simon offered.
Lois smiled sadly. “Maybe. I’ll have to think on that. Thank you. You gave me back my sister.”
Simon shook his head. “She was always there—I just helped you make the connection.” He walked Lois out to the register, and she turned to him at the door.
“Someone took Alicia from us. That ‘pirate’ killed her. I got my closure, but Alicia still needs hers. I know that you help the police on cases. If you can help solve her murder, that’s the best gift you could give her and me.”
“I’ll do my best,” Simon promised. He watched Lois leave, glad the reporters had scattered—for now.
“Either the AC kicked into overdrive or your ghost showed,” Pete said when Simon turned away from the door.
“She showed—and left us a mystery. I think the ghost ‘woke up’ because of the Slitter trial,” Simon said. “And I’m sure now that Walt was right—Fischer wasn’t the Grand Strand’s first serial killer. I believe Alicia McKenzie was one of that killer’s victims—I’ve just got to prove it.”
Pete handed Simon a candy bar and a bottle of water. “That’s awesome. But if you don’t eat and drink, I’ll have to scrape your ass off the floor—again.”
“Yes, Mother.” Simon chuckled, but he appreciated Pete’s concern and made quick work of the water and candy.
“Before you head into the office and go into Sherlock mode, remember you’ve got three readings and a call this afternoon. If you wipe yourself out trying to find old ghosts, those appointments are going to kick your butt,” Pete warned.
Simon chafed at the delay, but he knew Pete was right. He drank his second, now-cold latte, admitting that the séance had taken more out of him—energy-wise and emotionally—than he expected.
“Tracey called while you were with Ms. McKenzie to find out what we wanted for lunch. Hope you don’t mind, but I ordered you the ham and cheese and told her you’d need to refuel for the afternoon. She should be by any minute. If you eat fast, you might even be able to grab a short nap.” Pete grinned. “I promise I won’t tell the boss.”
The bell over the door jangled, and Tracey walked in with a bag. “How’d your séance go?” She put the sack down on the counter. Before Simon could answer, she turned to Pete.
“One ham and cheese, one chicken salad, two bags of regular chips, two sugar cookies, a Coke Zero, and a Sprite,” Tracey confirmed. “Since you paid online, the receipt’s in the bag.”
“Thank you,” Simon appreciated not having to venture outside in case the reporters were waiting elsewhere on the Boardwalk.
“No problem. It’s nice to stretch my legs. Did the ghosts chase the reporters away?”
“No, Mitch from the Business Association came down and gave them hell,” Pete replied with a smirk.
“That works too.” Tracey looked at Simon, questions clear in her eyes. “Well?”
“The ghost showed up. Murdered—never solved. Are there any caves around here?”
Pete and Tracey exchanged a look. “Caves?” Tracey echoed.
“That’s what the ghost said when I asked her where her body was. Caves,” Simon replied.
They shook their heads. “Not anywhere close to the beach. Hard enough to find places that can have a basement,” Tracey said.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Simon sighed. “Ghosts can be confused—especially when they die traumatically. Or maybe her killer took her farther away.”
“Sit with it, and you’ll figure something out,” Pete advised. He pushed Simon’s food toward him. “Eat. Rest. You don’t want to faint on your one o’clock.”
Simon retreated to his office and checked his mail and phone while he ate. He answered Vic’s texts, letting him know that the reporters had been scared off—for now. Simon figured he’d fill Vic in on Alicia’s ghost that evening.
Pete was right to caution him about not pushing too hard to find the ghosts, at least until his appointments were done. Simon chafed at the delay, especially since he still didn’t know who the skittish ghost had been that he had glimpsed earlier. He wanted to dig into the list Vic had given him and see if any of the other potential victims’ spirits would answer his call.
Simon knew that throwing himself into research was one way to deal with his PTSD about his near-fatal confrontation with the Slitter. While the nightmares no longer came as often, they still happened too frequently, leaving Simon shaking and panicked. Sessions with a therapist who specialized in military and law enforcement trauma helped, but she wasn’t privy to the supernatural aspect.
The anxiety that had been a part of his old life at the university faded when he moved to the beach and reinvented himself. Encountering the Slitter had brought anxiousness to the forefront again, and when Vic had a close call and got shot, Simon found himself struggling more than he had for several years. He worried that medication would dull his psychic abilities, but fortunately, his friend Gabriella, a bruja, gave him potions that eased his tension without compromising his magic.
None of which seemed to be helping at this moment. Simon’s heart thudded, and his hand shook as he gripped his drink. Slowing his breathing lessened the worst of the symptoms, but the tightness in his stomach made it difficult to eat no matter how much he knew he needed to refuel.
Simon ate half of his sandwich and finished his drink. He wrapped the leftovers and put them in the break room fridge, then went back to the office after a quick peek assured him the store was quiet.
