Page 16 of No Surrender
“Where is the card now?” Simon asked, with an urgency that made Vic stop pacing.
“You think it’s cursed?”
“That’s a definite possibility, don’t you think? Andrews is just fine; then he gets a card out of the blue from an unknown ‘admirer’ and has a mishap exactly like the one that stopped the career of the featured player? That’s way too specific to be bad luck.” Simon felt his worry ratchet up. “Like your Springsteen ticket and food poisoning.”
“The ticket is still on my desk—but I didn’t touch it today. Andrews reported the card as suspicious and had the forensics team pick it up. It should be locked up with evidence by now,” Vic replied. “I can ask Hargrove tomorrow whether you could scan the card and the ticket for resonance. I know he wants to go by the book, and we were all hoping that the trial would be a slam dunk. Now, I’m wondering whether Hargrove even considered that Andrews’s crash might have been more than an accident.”
“Do you have any theories on where the card came from?” Simon asked.
Vic shrugged. “We’ve got some ideas. Apparently serial killers have groupies—people who write them fan letters and true crime enthusiasts who fawn over them trying to get details no one else knows. I guess most of the time the groupies are messed-up but harmless. But maybe one of them decided to help out their ‘hero’ by getting rid of the D.A.”
Simon felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a clue that his psychic gift picked up on something Vic said. “And the lead detective?”
“Yeah. Is your Spidey sense tingling?”
“I think your instincts are good. Whoever sent the notes, the card and ticket—and cursed them—isn’t totally random,” Simon replied. “They’re an ‘interested party’ even if they don’t have any connection to the case itself. And if they’re willing to use dark magic to affect the outcome of the case, they’re not innocent.”
“I just don’t get it. Why would anyone find someone like that appealing?” Vic asked with an expression of complete confusion.
“There’s a word for it—hybristophilia,” Simon replied. Vic raised an eyebrow, and Simon shrugged. “I looked it up online.”
“I can understand—I guess—people who want to be armchair detectives and read true crime books. Maybe they like the puzzle-solving piece of detective work without the danger.” Vic’s hand went unconsciously to lightly rub over the scars from the bullet wounds that had nearly cost him his life just a few months ago.
“That’s probably true for the people who just like to follow along with the books and podcasts,” Simon replied. “But it gets more complicated once someone starts reaching out to the killer to create a friendship or a romance. They call it ‘Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome’ after the famous bank robbers.”
“Why would anyone think a guy who got off on killing people would be someone they’d want to know?” Vic sounded horrified. “Sane people should run away. Nothing good can come from having that killer’s attention.”
Simon shrugged. “Lots of theories. Some people want to fix them—redeem them. Some are attracted to the danger—they’re the ultimate bad boy. Maybe the groupie considers themself so special that the killer would never harm them. And then there are the admirers who wish they could get the nerve up to follow in their hero’s footsteps.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Hey, don’t blame me—I read it on Wikipedia. I agree that the sexual attraction piece boggles my mind. But if you had someone who felt like life has been unfair to them, that they always get the short end of the stick, that people pick on them…they might fantasize about having the power to punish people who hurt them.”
“Like that’s not creepy at all,” Vic muttered.
“Creepy—and potentially dangerous,” Simon agreed. “The more someone like that identifies with the killer, the more they’re likely to start taking on their characteristics, trying to follow in their footsteps.”
“Copycat?” Vic looked like he was going to be sick.
“Probably in some cases,” Simon replied. “Most people are never going to get the courage up to actually kill like their hero. But if you’ve got a person who resents being powerless, maybe they see the killer as being strong enough to break all the rules and get away with it. Someone who deals with his ‘enemies’ ruthlessly. And if it gives them a boner too—well, bonus.”
“Ugh,” Vic replied with an exaggerated shiver. “Sounds like one of those crazy suicide cult leaders.”
Simon nodded. “You’re not far off. The groupies want to feel special and get their hero’s attention. Maybe they want some of the fame to rub off on them. They want to make themselves into someone they see as being stronger, someone who wouldn’t take the humiliations the fan has dealt with.”
“That’s scary as fuck.” Vic rubbed his temples. “William Fischer was a monster who killed innocent strangers and enjoyed it.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Simon told him. “I was almost one of the victims.”
“Okay, so when we look at the Slitter’s fans, we need to find someone who might want to impress him or become him,” Vic mused. “And someone who either has magic or has people around him—or her—who can be tapped for a favor, even if it’s to cause harm.”
“Which means there might be accomplices out there who may not feel guilty about helping him,” Simon pointed out. “If you could find them and make them crack, you might get some useful intel.”
“God, Simon. You sound like something out of Gitmo.” Vic ran a hand down over his face. “Make them crack?”
Simon grinned. “Sorry. Too much TV. But you know what I mean. If someone who had enough magic to be dangerous but wasn’t well trained got pressured into cursing the baseball card, they might feel bad about it. Maybe they’d be glad to tell someone in exchange for assuring their safety.”
“You should have been a detective,” Vic replied, deadpan. “You’ve got good instincts.”
