Page 18 of No Surrender
“Me, neither.” Ross looked a little offended, like he felt left out.
“Interesting.” Simon peered at the card under the bright light, but he didn’t risk getting closer. “That explains why Andrews probably didn’t hesitate to pick it up—it looked like it came from a familiar source, and he forgot to be suspicious.” He turned to Vic. “You said he was well-known for his baseball obsession? Do you think he traded cards with people often? Or did he buy cards on a regular basis?”
Vic shrugged. “I wouldn’t know—but his secretary might.”
“Is the card valuable? I don’t know much about baseball, but I’ve seen articles about collectors paying huge amounts for rare cards.” Simon asked.
“Let me see what I can come up with,” Ross said.
“How do we store the card so it’s safe?” The duty officer looked a bit lost at the turn of conversation.
“For the moment, mark it as a biohazard and don’t let anyone touch it or check the box out,” Vic suggested. “And we need to bring in the ticket someone sent me—same treatment.”
The officer looked skeptical, but he took the box away and slapped a big red warning sticker on it, sealing the lid shut.
Vic, Simon, and Ross headed back to the cubicle Vic and Ross shared, stopping to grab coffee on the way.
“If Andrews was a big fan, what are the odds that he was active in baseball groups on social media? Maybe under a screen name, since he was a public figure,” Simon asked. “If so, the person who sent the card might also be in the same group. Maybe he was also a real fan, or maybe he was stalking Andrews. Because whoever picked out the card for him knew he’d want it badly enough to touch first and ask questions later.”
Vic nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense. Especially if buying or trading cards was a common thing for him.”
“Then we’ve got someone very dangerous on the loose,” Ross warned. “The guy might have a psych ops background—if not, he’s damn good at getting inside someone’s head. Andrews took precautions. He knew he had a dangerous job. So someone figured out where Andrews might let his guard down and used it against him.”
“Psych ops—and a witch?” Vic asked. “That’s not good.”
Simon stared into the distance, listening as Vic and Ross spitballed ideas. “What’s his game?” Simon finally asked. “That’s as important as finding out who he is. Is he one of the Slitter’s fans trying to throw the trial? Is he an accomplice who had a deal to spring the boss? Or is this someone with a bone to pick with Andrews personally—or over another case?”
“Andrews isn’t dead, so we can talk to him,” Ross replied. “He should be freaked out enough to cooperate—I hope. At the least, maybe he can give us access to his groups. We might be able to get a lead from the other members.”
Vic swore under his breath. “Oh, Andrews will love that—giving up the one place he has a little space not to be the District Attorney.”
“This was a warning,” Simon answered. “He could have picked Roberto Clemente, and Andrews would have gone down in a plane crash. So our witch wants to throw a wrench into the trial, but he’s not killing anyone—yet.”
“Do you think any of yourcontactsmight know more about this kind of thing?” Vic asked, uneasy using the word “magic” in the office. “Anything that might help us narrow the field?”
Simon shrugged. “I can ask. It’s an interesting choice of attack. I’m going to guess it’s ‘sympathetic magic’—making one thing like another. Narvaez was in a wreck and broke his arm, which derailed his career. Andrews has the same kind of accident—and might lose out on a high-profile trial.”
He frowned, thinking. “I don’t get the feeling that type of magic is very common. That might be important. I’ll put out some feelers and let you know what I hear.”
“Thanks,” Vic replied, knowing that he didn’t need to remind Simon to be discreet. The last thing they needed was to have the press catch a whiff of “witchy stuff” regarding Andrews’s incident or the trial. There had already been enough pointed comments by some of the state’s more religious lawmakers that using psychics or mediums to help with cases was akin to making a deal with the devil.
“Don’t worry,” Simon said with a wry smile as if he guessed Vic’s thoughts. “I’ll keep it quiet. Trust me—the ‘community’ doesn’t want the press poking around any more than you do.” Vic knew Simon meant the others with paranormal abilities as well as the local witches.
“While you’re here—I ran those names Walt gave me through the system.” Vic beckoned Ross and Simon over to his computer. “Most of them had official missing persons reports on file. A few didn’t, which either means the police talked the family out of filing, or for some reason they didn’t try.”
“Or they didn’t have families,” Ross said. “Wasn’t that part of the Slitter’s pattern? He looked for people on work visas who wouldn’t be missed.”
Vic nodded. “Yeah—most of the time. The ones on Walt’s list weren’t on visas. But they were young women who came to Myrtle Beach from small towns to work hospitality jobs. Most of them hadn’t been in town for a full year. So they were inexperienced and vulnerable. Easy pickings.” He knew the others could hear in his tone how much he despised people who took advantage of others’ weaknesses.
“With everything that happened yesterday, I didn’t have a chance to look into the list the way I want to,” Simon admitted. “I have a slow day today at the store. I thought I’d start working my way through the list and see who answers.”
Vic gave him a worried look. “Just don’t push yourself too hard. The disappearances were long enough ago that we’re not going to rescue anyone, and the odds are against us finding the killer. So you don’t have to make yourself sick by trying to do too much, too quickly.” He hoped Simon read the worry in his tone for concern instead of assuming Vic didn’t trust him.
“I’ll be careful.”
“You’re going to do that at the store? Where Pete’s around to call if you faceplant?” Vic asked.
“I figured you’d prefer that.” Simon couldn’t help smiling at Vic’s protectiveness.
