Page 38 of No Surrender
The old attraction wasn’t far from where Grand Strand Ghost Tours was located on the Boardwalk, on a parallel street in a busy but older section of Myrtle Beach, a thicket of T-shirt and gift shops, ice cream parlors, arcades, and bars that catered to the karaoke college crowd.
When Vic first moved to the beach, he had spent his weekends seeing the sights, in part to stay busy and forget how far he was from his family in Pittsburgh. He’d dragged his new partner—Ross—with him when he could and went alone when that wasn’t possible. That had provided a rough introduction to his adopted city and helped him pick up the vibe of a town so different from what he was used to.
Vic and Simon preferred checking out the historic sites, wandering the paths at the nearby sculpture garden, or walking the trails at Brookgreen Gardens. Just for the hell of it, they had managed to take in the very popular live musical shows at least once to see what all the fuss was about. Those were professionally produced but just as corny as Simon and Vic expected, targeted to the retiree snowbirds who wintered in the lower Carolinas.
Mini-golf at the many elaborate courses had also become something of a guilty pleasure for a night out.
“Kinda hard to imagine it looking like a castle, don’t you think?” Vic observed as they slowed to pass the building that had once been home to the horror attraction.
“They can put a facade on anything—like the building they made look like it’s upside-down,” Ross said. “But it does sound like the old place had more style than some of the new haunted houses. It’s the kind of thing I would have gone to when I was a teenager.”
The building, which was next to a big oddities museum, looked plain enough. The T-shirt and gift shop—which had once been the street level entrance for Vampire’s Castle—didn’t differ much from its competitors, with a brightly colored awning and neon-hued painted windows offering special sales. An inflatable waving tube dancer drew the eye with bright colors and motion.
Vic’s gaze traveled up to the second floor. Dark, grimy windows suggested that level might have remained abandoned despite the lower floor getting repurposed.
“When we get back to the office, I want to know everything there is to know about Vampire’s Castle—who owned it, why it shut down, and why the building stayed in limbo for so long,” Vic said. “Also need to find out who owns it now because I’m going to ask for a search warrant for evidence of murder victims or remains—and I want Simon with us when we go take a look.” He paused. “I also want to know if Thompson or Judd ever worked there or had any connection.”
Ross cocked his head as he spared a glance at the building, slowing down in traffic. “If the building was abandoned for a number of years and Thompson was familiar with it, he might have thought it was the perfect dumping ground. No one around to notice comings and goings or investigate odd noises—or smells.”
Vic nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. And if nobody uses the second floor, there’d be no reason for anyone to go poking around.”
Ross’s phone trilled, and he spoke a command to pick up the call. “Ross—it’s Ted. Got a minute?”
“Sure,” Ross replied, mouthing “my FBI contact” to Vic. “Vic’s with me, and I’m going to ask him to take notes while I drive. What did you find out?”
“You sure like to throw a guy a challenge,” Ted replied. “I talked to our profilers. The whole serial killer fan thing is surprisingly common. It’s the allure of the bad boy dialed up to eleven. Blame it on ‘forbidden fruit’ or the rush of getting away with breaking the law—until you don’t. Goes with the American fascination with outlaws.”
“I can kinda see that,” Ross allowed. “Although serial killers?”
“Tell me,” Ted agreed. “And get this—most of the fans are women. Even though the killers did horrible things to their female victims. The fans think the killer was misunderstood, or had a rough life, or would change if loved enough. And in the fan’s mind, they’re the one who can tame the beast.”
“Good luck with that,” Vic muttered.
“I didn’t say it was rational or sane, but it is what it is,” Ted replied.
“How about fanboys?” Ross asked. “Guys who love the outlaw vibe and live vicariously through their idol.”
“Not as common, but still real. Usually, it’s a guy who has been picked on all his life for being nerdy, unattractive, or offbeat. Not that plenty of people like that don’t live perfectly normal, well-adjusted lives,” Ted hurried to add.
“So the fanboy is a misfit, maybe even living down to the stereotype of having a room in his mom’s basement,” Ted went on. “He looks up to guys with a lot of swagger and can’t see through their bravado. Guys like him want to be badass rock stars. They hate men who seem to get women easily. Usually has a chip on his shoulder the size of Manhattan and a history of blaming other people for his problems.”
“So paranoid loser mama’s boy with a bad attitude who hero-worships bullies,” Ross recapped. “Lovely,” he added sarcastically.
“The outlaw part is the appeal,” Ted emphasized. “The fanboy wants to break rules but is afraid of consequences, so he idolizes the killer for breakingallthe rules and getting away with it. Even when the killer gets caught, they’re still a rockstar to the fan because of all the media hype.”
All of that made sense in a sick way to Vic. “Do the super fans ever try to insert themselves into the situation?” he asked. “Maybe they fancy themselves to be an accomplice, or they do things to harm the prosecution to help their hero?”
Ted paused. “Sounds like you’ve got a situation.”
“Oh boy, do we ever,” Ross muttered.
“That sort of thing is less common but not unheard of,” Ted replied. “Most fans stick to letters or gifts. Sometimes they’ll write to the judge to let the killer off, or they’ll send letters to the editor.”
“If the fan knew the killer even tangentially before the trial, they might write themselves into the story by thinking that they ‘helped’ by not tipping off the police—or the victims. That’s a level of crazy that raises a lot of red flags,” Ted warned. “And if you’ve got a fan who is making threats or taking actions to harm people they see as a threat to the killer, that’s not just delusional—it’s dangerous.”
“Got it,” Ross said. “Thanks, Ted. That helps a lot.”
“Hey, Ted—any chance you could run a suspect through your database in case you turn up something our system doesn’t?” Vic asked. “Name is Bert Judd. Not sure where he was born, but he’s spent a lot of time in Myrtle Beach. Janitor. He’s probably around sixty, and I’m guessing he checks off all the fanboy boxes. Anything you can tell us would help a lot.”
