Page 22 of No Surrender
Vic shrugged again, trying to deflect. “We’re early in our investigation.”
Andrews cocked his head and gave Vic a “don’t bullshit me” look. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you have a theory?” Ross asked, and Vic knew his partner was trying to diffuse the situation.
Andrews barked a bitter laugh. “It’s a damned inconvenient coincidence, which makes me doubt that it’s as coincidental as it looks. To tell you the truth, it’s kinda freaky. I don’t like thinking that magic might be real. But I’ve seen what master manipulators can do to people, and it certainly qualifies as ‘putting them under a spell.’ So—unofficially, off the record—I’m willing to keep an open mind.”
Vic let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. We’re being discreet. We don’t want this to turn into a media circus.” He hesitated. “I’ve got another question. Were there ever rumors about Myrtle Beach having a serial killer before the Slitter?”
Andrews looked surprised, then just as quickly schooled his features. “Why do you ask?”
“We think there was a series of deaths and disappearances back in the eighties that might have been overlooked,” Ross said. “The visibility of the Slitter trial has brought some old unfinished business to light.”
“Interesting. Wouldn’t surprise me. People tend to avoid seeing disturbing patterns—especially when it’s bad for business,” Andrews replied. “Step carefully. You know who runs this town. They can be very protective when it comes to bad news that might keep people from vacationing here.”
“Understood,” Vic replied with a nod. Real estate developers ran Myrtle Beach—that was no secret. Visionary land developers and railroad men created the Grand Strand as a way to optimize their beachfront property in the booming Post War period. Myrtle Beach was something of an artificial construct—a planned town rather than one which sprang up naturally. Those same families remained quietly powerful in local affairs since they owned much of the most valuable land.
Andrews looked tired, and Vic didn’t want to overstay their welcome. Andrews was a valuable ally, and keeping him on their side made life a lot easier.
“What did you make of that?” Ross asked as they drove back to the office.
“What happened rattled him,” Vic replied, watching the town pass out the passenger window. “He’s all law and logic, and he’s weirded out because he senses something is sketchy about this, but he can’t explain it.”
“He didn’t throw us out. That’s a plus.”
“Nothing like low expectations,” Vic joked.
“It beats having none at all,” Ross returned. “So what’s the next move? We’re not going to be able to get in to see the judge for a while.”
“We can’t wait for the perp to send out more cursed objects,” Vic replied. “So I thought maybe we can make him come to us.”
Ross risked a glance at Vic. “Don’t tell me you intend to use yourself as bait. Simon will make sure my ass gets haunted for eternity if anything happens to you.”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t get that far. We just want to force his hand, flush him out,” Vic replied, thinking aloud. “Let him think that he failed with the ticket, goad him into trying again.”
“I know I’m going to regret this, but what did you have in mind?”
“I’ll drop in on the Springsteen fan groups that I rarely visit, and burn up the chat talking about the cool vintage ticket, make like nothing weird happened. If our guy is out there, he’s going to wonder why the curse didn’t stick. Gives our IT guys another data set for comparison.”
“Did you discuss this with Simon?”
“I just thought of it while we were talking to Andrews,” Vic admitted.
“Yeah. I’m gonna get haunted for sure.”
“I’m not making anything new happen. You know Simon and I are already on the perp’s list. I’m just making him doubt himself. He might make mistakes or not cover his tracks.”
“You’re afraid he’ll go after Simon next.” Ross didn’t make it a question.
Vic looked away, giving Ross his answer.
“Simon’s the one who’s going to figure out how to break the curse,” Vic said after a pause. They had pulled into the station’s lot a while ago but weren’t ready to continue their conversation in a more public place.
“I have no intention of getting hurt. But if I do, you and Hargrove will be able to carry on. If something happens to Simon—” Vic cleared his throat. “His friends might be able to figure it out, but it’ll take them longer. He’s onto something about the other murders in the eighties. I’m sure it all ties together. We need him. I’m—”
“Do not say ‘expendable,’” Ross warned. “I’d have to kick your ass.”
Vic gave him a look. “That wasn’t what I was going to say. More like ‘replaceable’—in the short term,” he hurried to add. “I can be benched, and the rest of the team can still win. We can’t replace Simon’s unique set of skills as easily.”
