Hereafter [McKnight, Perth & Daire 2] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Beth D. Carter

  Why the hell did I touch the graves?

  Chapter Four

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Melody called out.

  Charlotte glanced over her shoulder but kept walking. She slowed down, however, just enough for the other woman to catch up.

  “What’s with the color green?” Charlotte finally asked. “You almost blend into the landscape.”

  Melody blinked. “I do? I like being one with nature.”

  “You succeeded,” Charlotte replied. “What do you want?”

  “You had another vision, didn’t you?”

  Charlotte didn’t want to answer. She wanted to walk away and forget because technically, her job was done.

  “I know you did,” Melody continued, taking hold of Charlotte’s arm and halting her. “You get this odd expression on your face, slightly blank and just a little constipated.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Just a little,” she confirmed, holding up her hand and measuring about an inch between her thumb and index finger.

  “Well, what about your all-green hair and nails? You make people like me want to hide what I can do because of the backlash stigma. You give love a bad name.”

  Melody crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her. “As opposed to you being so embarrassed about your gift you hide yourself from the world. I bet even your own family doesn’t know what you do.”

  Charlotte opened her mouth to retort a scathing reply. But words failed her. What could she say? She couldn’t rebut the truth, so she closed her mouth and looked away.

  “That’s what I thought,” Melody said. “Now, are you going to tell me what you saw? Because what I saw were three echoes encircling you and ignoring me, which, frankly, is a brand-new experience for me.”

  That shocked her. Her eyes widened. “Really? They were around me?”

  Melody nodded. “Three ghostly souls embracing you like you were playing ring-around-the-rosy.”

  “Ew, that’s creepy.”

  At that moment, Jonas came through the brush. “Is everything all right?”

  “Peachy, in an Evil Dead kind of way,” Charlotte replied. “How are the families?”

  “Holding up as best as they can. The police are on their way. How are you doing?”

  “Three girls died, and not one person came looking for them. It makes me sad.”

  “That’s why you’re needed,” he answered.

  Charlotte didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned on her heels to hurry the rest of the path to the road. The cars were several yards away, so she headed for them, steadfastly ignoring the two people behind her, because she knew she was going to have to answer the vision question soon.

  At the car, she pulled herself onto the hood to wait. Melody leaned against the side and folded her arms. Jonas came to stand in front of Charlotte, staring at her expectantly.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I know you had a vision. You get this look on your face—”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Well?”

  Charlotte sighed. “I should wait for Nash.”

  “Why? Why him?” Though his tone was calm and controlled, she could hear the question underlining the words. She chose to ignore it.

  “Because the local yokels hired him. If anyone should hear about my unofficial vision, it should be the guy who’s here in an official capacity.”

  “Hear what?” Nash asked as he stepped into view. Behind him, Sarah, Kate, and Linda marched, heads hung low. The women walked past them to the Suburban where they disappeared inside, sticking together as a united front in their grief.

  Charlotte felt sorry for them. They had known their daughters were dead, but still, seeing their graves in a place where they weren’t ever supposed to be found, knowing their lives had been stolen from them, must have been hell on earth.

  “Tell me what?” Nash repeated, snagging her attention. “The vision you just had?”

  “Does everyone know my vision face?” Charlotte demanded. “I’m pretty positive I don’t make that expression when I go—”

  “Focus, Charlotte,” Jonas interrupted.

  “Right,” she said with a huff and turned to Nash. “Kendra is in the last grave. The freshest. Candace is next in the middle.”

  “That was the order they disappeared,” Nash reminded her.

  “When I touched the last two graves, I was transported to a club. Not the club from before, but a dance club, though I couldn’t hear the music. The swaying bodies gave it away.”

  “And you saw the girls?”

  “Kendra was dancing with a man who had an eagle tattoo on his shoulder. I never saw his face, and though I find shirtless men in nightclubs somewhat vulgar, it works fairly well for identification purposes. When Candace showed me her vision, she had just gotten a drink from the bartender who had a dragon tattoo on his arm.”

  “Oh wow,” Melody injected. “You gonna tell the police?”

  Charlotte shot her an exasperated look. “I can assure you that nowhere on their bodies is a note saying, I was killed by a man with an eagle tattoo.”

  “I’d like to have you sit with a sketch artist to iron out what that eagle looked like,” Nash told her.

  “We can take it around the area and see if anyone recognizes it,” Jonas added. Nash nodded in agreement.

  “Or just check out the clubs,” Melody reasoned. “The sex club and now this dance club. Can’t be too many combinations of them around. Then again, this is Missouri.”

  “I’m betting they’re one and the same,” Nash said.

  “Makes sense,” Jonas added. “The girls go dancing and meet up with the man or men who bring them to the next private area.”

  “The bartender could be spiking the drinks. The girls might not even know what they’re ingesting,” Nash finished.

  Charlotte looked over their shoulders to the cars approaching. “And here we go.”

  Melody, Nash, and Jonas turned.

  “I take it that’s the local sheriff,” Nash murmured. “I better get back to the graves to keep the crime scene integrity intact. The FBI are on their way as well.”

  “Okay, Melody,” Charlotte said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Just follow my lead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re gonna want you to account for the past couple of months, so start mentally preparing your list of alibis.”

  “What?” Melody practically gaped at her.

  “It also helps to have your lawyer information.”

  “I don’t have a lawyer.”

  It was Charlotte’s turn to gape at her. “Who handles your business affairs? Your bookings? Your accounts?”

  “A lovely woman named Tricia. She’s the librarian at the Biloxi library and one of my dearest friends.”

  Charlotte was struck mute. All she could do was blink at Melody.

  “Well,” she finally managed to say. “My sister can represent you when we’re arrested.”

  “Arrested!”

  “No one’s going to arrest you,” Jonas told her.

  “Jonas arrested me.”

  “I did not,” he protested.

  “Well, you wanted to. He took me into the interrogation room and everything,” she told Melody, whose complexion was starting to match her dress color. “People like us, you and me, Melody, we’re suspect numero uno.”

  The cop cars came to a halt behind theirs.

  “And whatever you do,” Charlotte whispered, “when they ask, ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ do not say yes.”

  Chapter Five

  Sheriff Ratcliff wasn’t large, but he was loud, and when he entered the interrogation room that Charlotte had been sitting in for an hour, she could smell the coffee and cigarettes wafting off him like a bad cliché. His mustache and goatee were peppered with white hair threading through the reddish tint, matching the receding hair on his head.

  His deputy filed in behind him and shut the door, a big man who Charlotte suspect
ed got his job just for the brutish thug persona he had expertly crafted. He certainly made her a little more wary of the approaching questions.

  The sheriff didn’t sit, and she recognized the classic pose of trying to intimidate a suspect. Charlotte calmly shut off her tablet, placed it aside, and then laced her fingers together as she waited.

  “I have a mind to book you for three counts of murder and be done with this nonsense,” he stated, glaring coldly at her.

  “Good luck trying to make that stick,” she told him calmly.

  “I wouldn’t be sassing off if I were in your shoes, missy.”

  “Missy? Would you please not make this sound any more hillbilly than you look?”

  “You think this is a joke?” he demanded.

  “What I think is that you’ll need this.” Charlotte unlocked her fingers to reach into her purse. She pulled out a manila envelope and laid it on the table in front of her.

  “What’s that?”

  “My whereabouts for the past three months. A background check on myself. Family and friends I’ve been in contact with, as well as my lawyer information.”

  “Already trying to create an alibi?”

  “The sooner you take me off your radar, the sooner you can start focusing on the men who murdered those girls.”

  “Men? You think more than one man did this?” She noticed a tightening through his shoulders, wariness entering his eyes.

  “Clairvoyant, remember?”

  He snorted. “I don’t believe in hocus pocus.”

  “Very well, that’s your choice. Luckily I wasn’t hired by you. I was hired by the families who felt like you weren’t doing your job.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She shrugged. “I was told you thought those girls weren’t even dead, that they’d run away.”

  “Those girls were either known prostitutes or drug users. Problem girls. Now, it would really help your case to tell me what you know.”

  “My case? Sheriff, there wouldn’t be a case if I hadn’t found the bodies, and because of your prejudices three women are dead and killers are roaming free.”

  How the irony of her statement fit into her own history wasn’t lost on her. Someone had tried to drown her, and because of her cowardice, someone else could have been hurt, or killed, since she hadn’t pursued justice.

  Damn introspection!

  He leaned forward and slapped the table in front of her. “Don’t get smart with me!”

  “I’m simply stating the facts, aren’t I?”

  He stared at her through narrow, angry eyes. His hands curled into fists, and Charlotte almost felt as if he wanted to reach out and strangle her. It didn’t help her faith in him that he would treat the murders with any type of sensitivity or real dedication.

  He dragged in a lungful of air and managed to push himself away, turning to face the two-way mirror. She could partially see the thunder cloud on his face as he composed himself. She glanced at the deputy who had maintained his bland expression, but he watched her with narrowed eyes.

  “You and your accomplices—”

  “You’re going to accuse a homicide detective and a Hawke Security Agent of murder? Even the girl in green, while I do have my suspicions she escaped from the circus, couldn’t hurt anything. And that includes creepy-crawly insects.”

  He turned back to her and folded his arms in front of his narrow chest. “So that leaves just you.”

  She stood up, put her tablet in her purse, and then slung it over her shoulder. “You’ve nothing to charge me with, Sheriff. Check out my alibi. It’s rock solid. If you need anything else, please contact my lawyer.”

  “Don’t leave Rock Ridge, Miss Perth,” he warned.

  She stopped at the door and looked back at him. “Don’t worry, Sheriff. I’ve just decided I won’t leave until justice has been found for those girls.”

  She opened the door and left, taking a deep breath to clear away the stale stench of Sheriff Ratcliff. The police office had been transformed into a beehive of activity. She’d bet every nickel she had that the place hadn’t seen this much activity since, well, ever.

  Immediately she saw Jonas and Melody waiting by the door and hurried over to them.

  “Charlotte!” Melody moaned as she approached. “That was just the awfullest. I near-about peed my pants.”

  “What is it with you and bodily fluids?”

  At that moment the sheriff came out of the interrogation room, followed by his deputy. Ratcliff caught her gaze, held up the envelope she’d given him, and disappeared into his office. He closed the door with a click.

  “Charlotte?” Jonas asked.

  “Hmm?” she asked, snapping back to attention.

  “I was just saying why don’t we grab some dinner?” Jonas stated. “Nash just called me and told me that they’re wrapping up at the lake. He could meet us at a restaurant so we can all talk a little more privately.”

  “That sounds great,” Melody enthused. “I could use a salad.”

  “I think I’d prefer some good down-home cooking,” Charlotte said. Something not green!

  Chapter Six

  “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Charlotte said as her plate of frog legs were placed in front of her. “Whose idea was it to eat here?

  “Rock Ridge is famous for this delicacy,” Nash murmured.

  “I think I could have gone the rest of my life without this particular delicacy,” Charlotte replied as she picked up her fork and moved the frog legs around. They were long and thin and in no way did they look like chicken. She watched as Melody picked up a leg and started gnawing, a look of sublime bliss crossing her face as she chewed.

  “Were these actually frogs?” she asked the waitress. “Like, fresh from the pond?”

  “Yes, ma’am, definitely fresh,” the bubbly girl answered, smiling widely. “My father and his partner go gigging every week, which is why we only serve frog legs Thursday and Friday.”

  “Excuse me, they go what every week?”

  “Gigging. It’s better huntin’ at night ’cause the spotlight freezes them. And then you use a pole with a five-tined gig, which Daddy says is better since they’re wider, which gives the frog gigger more room for error when thrusting it at the frog.”

  Charlotte simply stared at her.

  “Thank you,” Jonas said, breaking the momentary silence.

  “Just holler if you need anything,” the waitress said right before she turned and left the table.

  “I thought they spoke English in Missouri,” Charlotte said.

  “Don’t be nasty,” Nash scolded.

  “Oh, like you understood her.” The rest of her dinner looked just as unappealing as the frog legs. The menu had stated collard greens, beans with bits of ham fat, and pickled onions in a heavy cream sprinkled with pepper, but it all kind of meshed together in an unappealing way. She picked up the only thing she could actually identify, which was the still-warm cornbread. Butter was practically dripping, coating her fingers in a sticky, crumbling goo of tastiness.

  “What did you tell the sheriff?” Jonas asked after he’d swallowed some of his frog.

  Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “I told him he sucked at his job.”

  “Insulting the local authority,” Nash murmured and gave her a thumbs up. “Way to go.”

  “You told me not to call the cops stupid,” Melody reminded her.

  “Well, he wants to pin the murders on me and my accomplices, which are you guys, so I made an exception. I’ve dealt with many in law enforcement but none quite so…blah.”

  “Is that a technical term?” Nash teased.

  “So what do we have?” Jonas asked, steering the case back onto point. “Two men with tattoos, a dance club that’s probably well known, and a sex club that’s probably on the down-low.”

  “The FBI are taking over, but since I was hired by the families they still have to work with me,” Nash said with a wide, proud smile. “I hope they have preliminary autopsy f
indings soon.”

  “Toxicology will take a longer time,” Jonas reminded him.

  “I took some tissue samples myself and sent them off to the HS lab in St. Louis. Hopefully, we’ll get in them a day or so.”

  “Do you think there’s going to be anything helpful in the blood?” Charlotte asked.

  Nash shook his head. “I’m sure there’re drugs and alcohol, but I’m not expecting Rohypnol, GHB or Ketamines or anything else alluding to date rape. I’m thinking these girls knew exactly where they were going and what they were doing.”

  “Just not how it was going to end,” Charlotte said somberly. “Sheriff Ratturd called them prostitutes and druggies.”

  “Nobody deserves to be murdered and buried like discarded trash,” Melody stated.

  “Amen, sister,” Charlotte said and then took a deep sip of her tea. “Holy crap! That’s got more sugar than cotton candy.”

  “I know,” Jonas replied as he pushed his glass away. “My teeth actually hurt.”

  “I wish there was some way we could help find the killers,” Melody murmured, taking a big drink of her ice tea and then adding another packet of sugar.

  “I’ll work with the FBI,” Nash told her. “Make sure they stay on top of this. But don’t be surprised if it goes cold.”

  “Why?”

  Jonas answered. “Because the FBI doesn’t know about the dance club or the sex club. The only one who’s seen it is Charlotte, in a vision. They won’t take the word of a medium or a clairvoyant seriously, and without solid evidence leading them, the trail will go cold.”

  “What about the autopsy?” Melody asked. “DNA?”

  “Keep our fingers crossed. That’s about all we can do,” he answered.

  “Well, we’re on the case now. Right, Charlotte?”

  “We are very good at stating the facts,” Charlotte murmured.

  Melody turned startled eyes on her. “But we’ll catch the bad guy.”

  “The Feds will catch the bad guy, Melody. Or Nash. Not us. We’re just here to guide him.”