Page 7 of No Surrender
“Oh, yeah?” Vic knew Simon wouldn’t have mentioned the ghost if it wasn’t important. He couldn’t imagine the unseen world that surrounded Simon or having his ability to speak to spirits and help them find rest.
“Young woman, real skittish. Probably early twenties. From the clothing, I’d say 1980s. No visible wounds,” Simon replied. “Although some ghosts can control how they appear enough to not be bloody when they introduce themselves.”
“You say that so matter-of-factly.”
Simon shrugged. “Have you ever listened to yourself when you and Ross get talking cop shop?”
“You’ve got a point.” Being able to discuss disturbing information was an occupational hazard for first responders and medical professionals, and sometimes Vic had to be reminded that blood and guts weren’t part of everyone’s workday.
“She showed up for the first time two days ago, but she won’t talk to me.” Simon paused to finish his pasta and the last bite of bread. “I get the feeling that she wants to tell me something, but she’s afraid. Which makes me wonder where her spirit has been all this time. Usually when a ghost has been hanging around that long, they’ve figured out how to interact with the living if they have something to say.”
Vic frowned. “She’s from the eighties?” That detail triggered the memory of his conversation with Walt. Vic walked over to where he had hung his coat and reached into the inner pocket for the folded paper the reporter had given him.
“Remember Walt?” Vic handed the paper to Simon.
“The reporter who wasn’t an asshole?”
“Yeah. He thinks he’s got a lead on a set of murders and disappearances from the 1980s that were possibly the work of a serial killer.”
“Shit. Why would a ghost from back then make an appearance now?” Simon fidgeted with his water glass, letting Vic know the possibility deeply disturbed his partner.
“Do ghosts watch the news? The Slitter trial has been everywhere lately. People are probably talking about it beyond what’s on TV. Could that rile up a spirit?”
Simon frowned. “Maybe—especially if there was a lot of discussion somewhere that had a deep emotional connection for the ghost, where her spirit might have stayed without making herself noticed. Although it’s more common for an anniversary to provoke an appearance,” he mused.
“Well, you’ve got dates and details on that sheet,” Vic said as Simon unfolded the paper and scanned the information. “Walt’s been digging into this for a while. I told him I’d check the cold case records and see if any missing person reports or dead Jane Does showed up in the system around that time.”
“If they were in the system, wouldn’t someone have seen the pattern long before this?”
“Not if they weren’t looking for connections. If they just wrote off the disappearances as young people being unreliable, they might not have taken the information seriously enough to notice.”
“You’d think they’d pay attention when people disappear.” Simon stared at the paper with a pensive expression.
“No one really disappears,” Vic replied. “They don’t go ‘poof’ and vanish into thin air.” He winced, remembering some of the magic he’d witnessed. “Okay, not usually. Most of the time, it’s because people stop looking for them.”
Simon carefully folded the paper and rose to slip it into his messenger bag. “I’ll see who answers if I try to contact the ghosts of the people on that list. It might take a couple of days for them to trust me enough to tell me anything—assuming that there’s enough of their essence left to remember and that they aren’t as scared as the girl is.”
“Tread lightly,” Vic warned. “If there was an earlier serial killer, then he could still be alive. Wouldn’t be the first time we stumbled into old dirt that people would kill to keep hidden.”
“We won’t be getting a fruit basket from the Visitors’ Bureau, that’s for sure.”
Their conversation dampened the mood, and Vic didn’t want to end the evening like that. “C’mon. Let’s watch a movie—something fun.” He gave Simon a playful look. “I promise whatever we watch will have a very happy ending.”
Simon smiled. “Oh, yeah?”
“Satisfaction, guaranteed.” Vic leaned in and kissed Simon, starting with just a brush of lips that deepened to slow and lingering.
They cleaned up the kitchen, then moved into the living room, settling onto the couch. Vic worried that he’d get a repeat of the afternoon’s discomfort, but the problem seemed to have run its course. That still left him with aching abs and a sore throat. He had brushed his teeth twice, trying to get rid of the taste.
A fragment of memory surfaced, surprising Vic. “Huh. That’s odd.”
“What?”
“That concert ticket I got in the mail. I just realized that was the tour date they had to cancel because the band and the roadies came down with food poisoning. Weird, huh?” He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, a nervous gesture. “I guess after that round of creepy notes the legal team got, I’m a little spooked.”
Simon didn’t laugh. “Yeah. That is strange. Let’s get you better, and then we’ll figure out who sent the ticket.”
They clicked through streaming options and agreed on a favorite comedy/adventure they didn’t need to watch closely. Vic wrapped his arms around Simon and pulled a soft throw blanket over them. With the only light coming from the TV, it was almost as good as a movie theater, with a lot more privacy.
