Read Yesterday's Thief: An Eric Beckman Paranormal Sci-Fi Thriller for Free Online Page A

two shoes. Based on his thoughts—< Kind of impressive, but why do it?> —he was somewhere in the middle.
    Stan and I have a comfortable friendship. I like him but feel a little bad about it because I targeted him and manipulated him into being my friend. What better friend for a PI to have than the deputy police chief in charge of investigations, right? When you can read the reactions to everything you say or do and understand what someone wants, it’s easy to make them become your buddy.
    In spite of that phony—on my part—beginning, we’re genuine friends now. And he’s the only person I’ve ever manipulated in that way. Well, okay, I’ve manipulated a few women to get them interested in me. I’m not proud of that, either. Some men have square jaws and chiseled cheekbones, I can read minds. It’s not so different, really.
    We got to the closed-down ballpark’s service entrance, and Stan pressed a buzzer by the door. “We’re going to speak with the head groundskeeper, a Miss Lawton. She’s got some strange happenings to report. I’d like to get your thoughts on this. Maybe you’ll have one of your hunches.”
    “She’s seen some animals appear, maybe rabbits or rats,” I said.
    Stan turned to me. “Yeah. Like that. How did you—”
    “Who’s there?” The intercom next to the door came to life.
    “Chief Stanislowski with the San Francisco Police to see Miss Lawton.”
    “Just a sec.”
    Stan crossed his arms. “So, how did you know that?”
    I shrugged. “Just an idea I have about what’s happening.” That was a genuine hunch that didn’t stem from my mind reading.
    Stan waited for me to continue, but I wanted to keep the theory to myself.
    The door opened and a dour woman of around sixty glanced at us, then looked down. “I’m Lenora Lawton. Come to my office.” She turned and led the way into the bowels of the stadium. She was heavyset, and her wispy white hair hung down in a ponytail almost to her waist. She walked with a stoop and a waddle, as if she were making a walk-this-way joke.
    Her small office had floor-to-ceiling narrow shelves filled with bobblehead dolls. I estimated a thousand baseball players, each covered with dust. Only one doll stood on her gray metal desk: a bobblehead Jesus. He wore a white robe with a simple sash and a red cape. The base read: “Jesus Christ.” I reached for it to make the head bobble.
    “Don’t touch that, please.” Miss Lawton lowered herself into the wide chair behind the desk, and Stan and I sat on folding chairs.
    Stan said, “Miss Lawton, you’ve reported that—”
    “Are you gentlemen familiar with the Bible?” She had fine whiskers on her chin and basset hound eyes.
    I shrugged and Stan shook his head.
    “‘And the Lord sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people; and many people of Israel died.’ That’s what all this is about.”
    “Miss Lawton—” Stan took a breath “—you’ve seen animals appear on the field? The way the woman appeared the other day?”
    “This is a religious thing. Not for the police. Not for Caesar. The first one was a snake. About five years ago. I was inspecting the field, near the plate, when it just appeared. In the air. It dropped to the ground. It wasn’t dead, but it was sick. I thought immediately of that verse. Numbers, chapter twenty-one, verse six, by the way. The Lord had sent it.”
    “You didn’t report it?” I asked.
    She shook her head, staring at me. “It’s a religion thing. And would you have expected anybody to believe me? I do a good job here, and I take pride in my work. How long do you think I’d keep my job if I reported that God was sending serpents to home plate?”
    “But you’re reporting it now.” Stan raised his eyebrows.
    “Well, duh. Now everyone’s seen it happen. Everyone saw the woman appear. So I knew people would believe me and I could report it. But I still know it’s God’s doing.”
    “Has anyone else seen these animals?”