Witches of Palmetto Point Series Boxset Books 1 - 3: Haunting Charlie, Wayward Spirits and Devil's Snare

by Wendy Wang

  Sugar — please. Please?

  Sugar felt herself rising, yanked at the waist, dragged over the coping. She was vaguely aware of shouting. Someone pushed her onto her side and raised her arms above her head.

  “Mrs. Blackburn? Come on Mrs. Blackburn — you gotta spit it out.”

  A hard knock on the back — once, twice. Sugar coughed and water spilled over her lips.

  “That's it Mrs. Blackburn. You breathe. Just keep breathing.”

  Sugar opened her eyes. One of the water aerobics instructors — she couldn’t remember her name, Tiffany? Tiani? she just couldn’t remember names very well anymore — smiled down at her.

  “I’m still breathing,” Sugar rasped. She pushed herself up to sitting and scanned the water. Sunlight glittered across the top. She coughed.

  “What happened?”

  “Leg cramp,” Sugar lied with a smile. “The water’s a bit colder than I expected.”

  “You know you really shouldn’t be out here by yourself. It’s always better to swim with a buddy.” Tiffany (or was it Tiani?) scolded and wrapped a towel around the old woman’s shoulders.

  Sugar patted the young woman’s hand. “You’re right, dear. I’ll remember that next time.”

  Chapter 12

  When Susan called and asked her to dinner on Tuesday, Charlie agreed but only if they didn’t have to meet at the house. She wasn’t quite ready to face Aldus Talmadge again, especially not on his turf. Charlie had suggested Maudie’s Seafood in Palmetto Point. The back of the restaurant overlooked the Stono River and wasn’t too far for either of them. The view at sunset was always spectacular on a clear evening and the food was so good it attracted locals and tourists. Charlie arrived first and asked to be seated outside on the breezy deck. She might as well enjoy herself while she was here. Perusing the menu, she waited for Susan to arrive.

  Some part of her hoped that Susan’s son Jason would be with her even though she really found him obnoxious. The dream about the girl in the convenience store kept gnawing at her. He’d said something about taking missing person reports. Maybe he would be able to tell her if the girl from her dream was really missing or not. If she wasn’t, maybe she could somehow convince him the girl needed help. Despite their little run-in at the library, she sensed he took his job seriously. If a girl were in trouble, surely, he’d have to listen to her, wouldn’t he?

  “Hi,” Susan said in a chipper voice as she approached the table. “Thank you so much for meeting me.” She carried a tote bag with her and Charlie could see two large, old-fashioned scrapbooks poking out.

  “Hi Susan — what do you have there?”

  “Well you told me you were looking for some history on the house and I remembered that my mother had received a couple of packages from my uncle before he died. So I went to her storage facility and dug these out. I’m hoping that maybe there’ll be some information in there for you.”

  “Thanks.” Charlie pulled the first book out of the tote bag. It was large and leather bound by the feel of it. She opened it to the first page. The spicy scent of old paper wafted up, tickling her nose. There were clippings and envelopes stuffed inside the pages along with photographs — some of them very old, and very fragile — attached to the black paper with little triangular photo mounts that had turned yellow with age. Her fingers skimmed across the names and addresses on the top letter and images flashed before her eyes. Distant voices filled her head. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment as she realized there was still a lot of powerful energy attached to the letters.

  May 15, 1890

  My dearest Willet,

  I have nowhere to send this letter as it will be many months before you return from your journey at sea. My dear husband I am at my wits end with our youngest son. His behavior has been more than deplorable especially in the way he prances about trying to impress the colored girls tending the fields. It is difficult to write such things, and I have spent much time praying upon it. All I can do is hope for your quick return as I can no longer control him or his lustful proclivities. I have taken to locking him in his room. Threats do not work and I do not have the stomach or heart to take a cane to him. He refuses to go to church and will not receive Reverend Higgins. I fear for his very soul and for the reputation which is the foundation of our family name.

  I will continue to pray for strength and wisdom. Please return to me soon.

  All my love, Eleanor

  Charlie picked her hand up no longer wanting to feel this woman’s disgust and pain. Her hand drifted to her mouth.

  “Charlie?” Susan asked. “Are you all right?”

  Charlie swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Yes I’m fine,” she said. “Sometimes when I touch old things I pick up on left over energy I guess.”

  Susan’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward, a glint of fascination sparkling in her eyes. “Really? What sort of energy?”

  “Sometimes I see or hear things. This letter,” she said pointing to it, not wanting to touch it again, “is from one of your ancestors. Eleanor Talmadge. She was writing her husband Willet about their youngest son and his bad behavior. I think, though I can’t be certain that she was talking about Aldus Talmadge.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Susan said. “Well, we all know about Aldus Talmadge, don’t we?”

  “Yes. I suppose we do.” Charlie traced her fingers around the edge of her water goblet. “You know, I’ve dreamed about him.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. He attacked a young black woman and ultimately killed her, I think by burying her alive.”

  “Oh my Lord.” Susan sat back, astonishment lining her thin face.

  “Do you mind if I borrow these and go through them later? I promise I’ll take good care of them.”

  “No course not, that’s why I brought them.”

  “I have two other things I wanted to ask you.”

  “Sure.” Susan leaned forward. “Anything.”

  “Do you think your mother would be interested in talking to me?”

  Susan grew quiet and her gaze shifted to the menu laying in front of her. “I tried talking to her about it and she put me off. She’s real funny about that old house.”

  “Why is that?” Charlie asked. “You mentioned she left and never went back. That must’ve been hard on your grandmother.”

  “Oh I don’t know about that,” Susan said. “My grandma was made of steel but I guess you’d have to be if you’d been through what she had.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh you know, living through the depression. They lived in a big house but they were dirt poor and she lost at least two children before they turned five, and then of course there was my aunt’s murder.”

  “Your aunt? Your aunt was murdered?”

  “Yes. It happened when my mother was only twelve or thirteen, I think. A man took my aunt, she was sixteen or seventeen. Anyway, he raped her and killed her. From what I understand, my mother witnessed part of it.”

  “Oh my God. No wonder she doesn’t want to go back,” Charlie muttered under her breath. “Do you know what happened?”

  “Not specifically. My mother won’t talk about it. The only reason I even know about it is because sometimes my grandma would come and stay with us. See after my mama and daddy married, they moved to Charlotte, which is where I grew up. So one time, my grandma was visiting, I must have been about twelve, anyway she was terrified for me to go anywhere alone. You have to remember this was years before the notion of stranger danger. I asked my mother why my grandma was so afraid and she told me it was because of my aunt and what had happened to her. Although even then mama’s recollection of it was still vague. Probably to protect me. I didn’t know exactly what had happened until I started looking through some of the scrapbooks. There are several articles about it. In fact, there are several articles from before then, about young women who disappeared from the island. Why my grandma or my uncle Butch collected that stuff I have no idea, but they did. Hop
efully you’ll find it useful.”

  Charlie nodded. “Absolutely. This is exactly the kind of thing I need to arm myself. So I know exactly what I’m up against.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Susan lowered her voice and glanced at the other tables around them as if she was making sure no one was listening.

  “Sure,” Charlie said.

  “What happens exactly? You know, when you… see a ghost?” Susan whispered the last few words.

  Charlie picked up her water goblet and took a sip. “I don’t always see them. Sometimes I hear them. Sometimes I feel them and sometimes I dream about them.”

  “I would be scared to death if I saw a ghost,” Susan said.

  “Sometimes it can be scary and sometimes I don’t even realize they’re dead right away.”

  “How can you not realize they’re dead?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Not all spirits are ghostly apparitions. Sometimes they appear to be as solid as you and me. I’ve had whole conversations with people who seemed very much alive and it wasn’t till after that it dawned on me — oh hey, that guy was dead.”

  Charlie laughed and Susan joined her.

  “Then there are times they make me work for it.”

  “Work for it, how?” Susan said, intrigued.

  “Well, for instance, Aldus Talmadge is making me work for it.” Charlie paused, straightening her silverware.

  “He is?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t exactly see him when I went to your house. At one point you touched me, and I sensed a man in my head — arrogant, shrouded in darkness. He didn’t want to show me his face. I thought maybe he had attached himself to you but I was wrong about that.”

  “Why were you wrong?”

  “Because I dreamed about him last night, and then after I woke up, I saw him in my kitchen.”

  “Oh my God. I would have died on the spot,” Susan’s voice rose to a shrill pitch and Charlie noticed a lady at a nearby table staring at them. “How long have you — you know — seen ghosts?”

  “Since I was about five. I had an older sister and when she was eight, she died of meningitis.”

  “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that. I didn’t even know that she had passed at the time. I just woke up, and she was standing at the end of my bed and she looked normal to me. I couldn’t understand what she was doing at home because she had been taken to the hospital the day before. She said she just wanted to play with me, which I remember thinking was weird because she never wanted to play with me… but I also didn’t care. So at two o’clock in the morning we played with my tea set and my dolls. And I remember giggling with her because we were getting away with something being up that late and then she told me I should get back to bed and she laid down next to me and when I woke up in the morning, she was gone and my parents were in the kitchen crying. I tried to tell my father about her visit and he got so angry at me. I cried so hard because he thought I was lying to him. That I was making it up. Luckily my grandmother lived with us and she came to me later and asked me about it. She was — well, she was like me. She hugged me and told me it was okay not to talk to daddy about it because it would just upset him. That was my first lesson in hiding my ability.”

  Susan’s eye’s popped wide open. “Oh wow. That is amazing and sad. I guess it’s lucky though that you grew up with a grandmother that at least knew—”

  “Yeah—” Charlie forced a smile. There was no point in sharing the rest of her sob story. Charlie tipped her head and looked over Susan’s shoulder. “Can you tell me something?”

  “I can try.” Susan said glanced down at the menu in front of her.

  “Is there a reason that Jason doesn’t like me?”

  “Oh sweetie please don’t take that personally. That has more to do with me than with you, I’m afraid. I’ve been going to psychics since Jason’s father left me and he absolutely hates it. He thinks all psychics are charlatans just out to make a buck and I’ll admit I’ve met a few who weren’t exactly scrupulous. But I’ve also encountered the real deal on occasion. You, my dear, are the real deal.”

  Charlie leaned in. “How do you know?”

  “You know, for the longest time in my life I didn’t trust my own intuition. Which just means I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, including marrying Jason’s father,” Susan said. “A while ago now, I took a couple of self-improvement courses in learning how to listen to my intuition and ever since I started trusting it, I’ve been better off. My intuition tells me I can trust you Charlie.”

  “Well, thank you. I really appreciate that, and I’m gonna do everything I can to help you.”

  “I know you will.” Susan gave her a wink. “My intuition tells me so.”

  Chapter 13

  “Yes ma'am,” Jason Tate said. “I fully understand. How long has she been missing?”

  The woman's hands shook as she reached into her bulky purse and pulled out a framed picture of her niece Daniela Gutierrez. “Since Friday night.”

  Jason took the picture, opened the frame, and pulled out the girl’s image. The girl looked closer to twenty than fourteen. Her large brown eyes drew him in. Where are you?

  “And you're just now reporting it?” He tried not to sound too judgmental but sometimes it was hard.

  “I was told on Saturday that I had to wait. And I had to work yesterday so I couldn’t come.” The woman sounded defensive.

  “All right.” Jason nodded trying to keep his voice neutral. “So, you’re her guardian?”

  “Yes. Her parents were killed in a car accident when Daniela was very small.”

  “And she was supposed to be where?”

  “She was supposed to be with her friend Soledad.”

  “But she wasn't.”

  The woman sat back in the heavy wooden chair and hugged her large purse to her chest. “No.” She spoke softly. “She — she snuck out to meet a boy. And Soledad said she never returned. She was supposed to be back by one am that was their agreement.”

  “All right. That’s some place to start. Do you know what boy?”

  The woman's lips quivered, and she shook her head. “Not exactly. Soledad could only give me a first name.”

  “So he wasn’t a boy Soledad knew? Maybe from school?”

  Ms. Gutierrez’s eyes welled and big fat tears spilled onto her round cheeks. She sniffled. “Soledad said she met the boy on-line. Said he was older.”

  The pit of Jason’s stomach wrenched, and he pursed his lips, focusing on the notepad in front of him. A boy with no last name from the Internet. Great. He was probably some fifty-year-old predator who got his rocks off on little girls. This was his fourth case of girls almost identical to Daniela — all under eighteen meeting some guy they met on the Internet, never to be heard from again. He tried to remain objective, but sometimes it just made him hate humanity. He understood why his partner Dale went home and downed a six-pack every night.

  “All right, I need Soledad’s information then — address and phone number if you have it.”

  “Of course.” Ms. Gutierrez reached inside her large purse and pulled out her cell phone. She thumbed through her contacts before finally handing the phone to him. “This is Soledad’s cell phone number.”

  “What about Daniela’s computer? Any chance I could take a look at that?” Jason asked.

  Ms. Gutierrez pulled a laptop from her bag and handed it to him. “I don't know the password.”

  “Don't worry about that. We've got technicians that can handle that.” Jason put the laptop on his desk next to her photo.

  Ms. Gutierrez glanced at the clock on the wall. “Do you need more information? I have to be at work in an hour.”

  “No I think we have everything we need.” He gave her his best reassuring smile and took one of his business cards from the holder on his desk. He handed it to her. “If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

  The woman stared dow
n at Jason’s card for a moment clutching it until the thick stock crinkled.

  “Do you think you will find her?”

  “I'm gonna do my best.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” She smiled sadly and rose from the seat. He watched as she made her way across the office and disappeared into the hallway. He spent the next few minutes making a folder for Daniela Gutierrez and when he was done, he threw it on top of the other four cases. In his gut, he knew they were all related and that none of these girls had come to a good end, but until there were bodies to go with their faces, they were just more girls on a stack of all the other missing kids and runaways.

  “Hey Tate,” Marshall Beck said, approaching his desk. “I got that information you wanted.”

  Jason's ears perked up, and he held out his hand. “Yeah? Let me see.”

  Marshall stopped just short of his desk and cocked his fat head. Marshall had let himself go since his wife left him. Not that he was Mister Universe before, but now his puffy face and bald head made him look more like a fat Mister Clean.

  “I don't remember there being a case open on this chick.” Marshall held the folder open against his man boobs.

  “She's a person of interest in a case,” Jason said standing up and grabbing the folder from Marshall's grubby hands.

  “Yeah, sure,” Marshall said. “You think I didn't get a look at her? She's a hottie even in her driver's license photo and that's saying a lot. You sure you're not just trying to weed out some psycho girl you want to date?”

  “You are one sick bastard you know that?” Jason said. “Trust me, this girl is up to no good and I'm gonna make sure she doesn't hurt anybody.”

  “Crazy maybe, but up to no good? I’m not so sure. Looks like she’s more likely to hurt herself, than anybody else,” Marshall said.