by Wendy Wang
“Why? What’d you find?” Jason scanned the folder and stared down at the photocopy of Charlotte Grace Payne driver’s license attached to a copy of an admittance form. There was a hint of a smile on her lips and Marshall was right. On first glance, she was definitely hot. But it didn’t matter how good-looking she was if she took advantage of older women scared out of their minds. He scanned through the document. Bingo. There it was. “How’d you get this?”
Marshall smiled. “Finesse. Maybe you should learn how to use it sometime.”
“Yeah. You’ll be the first one I come to for that.” Jason smirked. No wonder she hated psychiatrists so much. Charlie Payne was certifiably crazy. Crazy enough to be admitted to the psyche ward at MUSC hospital, anyway.
Chapter 14
Charlie clutched her purse straps tightly against her shoulder as she followed the officer to Jason Tate’s desk. Dread coiled tightly in her belly. She couldn't stop thinking about the girl from her dream. Jason Tate may not have been a fan of hers but she felt more comfortable talking to him about what she'd seen in her dream than a random officer. Getting him to take her seriously that would be the challenge. She saw him sitting at his desk typing something into a computer and she stopped in her tracks and almost turned back. Jason looked up, his gaze zeroing in on her.
Too late now Charlie, she thought. She forced a smile, and he scowled in return. Great. This ought to be fun.
“Tate,” Deputy Marshall said, a smug grin on his face. “You've got a visitor.”
“I sure do,” Jason said pushing to his feet. “Well if it isn't Charlie Payne. To what do I owe this honor?”
Charlie stepped forward, her gaze flitting between Jason and the other deputy. “I need to talk to you about something. Privately if possible.”
Jason and the other deputy exchanged a look but Jason finally nodded and led her to an open interrogation room.
“Have a seat.” Jason pointed to the chair facing the mirror on the wall. She watched enough television to know that the mirror was probably two-way and there were also little cameras mounted in the corner, their lenses pointed directly at the table. The chair made a scraping noise across the linoleum floor when she pulled it out and took a seat.
“So what is this all about Ms. Payne?” He sounded irritated already. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe she should've just called in the tip anonymously.
“There's no real easy way to say this without you rolling your eyes at me but I have to tell somebody.”
Jason took the seat across from her. He leaned forward. “All right, I'm listening.”
“There is a girl. Maybe fourteen or fifteen. I think she's gone missing and I think I know who did it.”
“All right,” Jason said. His intense eyes narrowed. “Do you have a name?”
Charlie swallowed. “The girl or the man?”
“Either would be good.” Jason said.
“No,” she said softly. “I only know what they look like and that he's an employee at a convenience store.”
“Okay — what's the name of the store?”
“Well I—” she shifted in the cold metal seat. “I don't know that either.”
Jason leaned back in his chair. He scrubbed his hand over his mouth and chin as if he were unsure what to say. After a moment, he blew out an irritated sigh.
“So there's a girl whose name you don't know that may have been taken by some man whose name you don't know. But you know he works at a convenience store but you don't know that name either.” His irritation edged toward anger. “So how exactly did you get this information?”
Charlie licked her lips and avoided his unforgiving glare. “I dreamed about it.”
Jason’s eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead and his jaw tightened. “You dreamed about it?”
When she was younger, she would have shrunk away from the scorn in his voice. But when she left Scott, she’d sworn to herself that no one would be allowed to make her feel so small again. She straightened in the uncomfortable chair and met his gaze. “Yes.”
Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You are wasting my time.” He started to rise from his chair.
“No, wait please.” She grabbed his hand without thinking and touching him sent a shock up her arm. She dropped his hand and took a step back, instinctively rubbing her palm with the thumb of her other hand. A black mist formed behind Jason. It grew darker, and the form became more human until finally the apparition of a man appeared. He looked like an older version of Jason with gray at his temples, only his eyes were bright blue instead of hazel. His legs were more mist than man and he hovered next to Jason. The man must have been Jason’s father and Charlie couldn't take her eyes off him.
“You knucklehead, what is wrong with you?” the man asked. “Is that the way you treat a beautiful woman? Did I not teach you anything?”
The snap of Jason's fingers in front of her face diverted her attention.
“What is wrong with you?” Jason asked.
Charlie chuckled to herself. It looked like Jason was more like his father than his mother, even echoing the same words.
“Nothing,” she said. “Is your father alive?”
“No, I am not.” The older man looked at her. “You can see me, can’t you?” He clapped his hands together and strangely it made a noise that made Jason glance over his shoulder in his father’s direction.
“Hallelujah,” Jason’s father said. “Finally — I need you to tell my knucklehead of a son something for me, so I can get out of here.”
“How is that any of your business?” Jason asked.
“Do not listen to him. It is plenty your business if you can see me,” the older man said.
“You’re right, it's not my business. I just — when I touched you—” her eyes flashed toward the older Tate.
“You know I can arrest you for touching me,” Jason threatened.
The older Tate shook his head. “Will you tell my son he's an idiot?”
“No,” Charlie said glancing at the apparition. “That’s mean. I’m not gonna tell him that.”
“You’re not gonna tell who, what?” Jason put his hands on his hips. She knew the look on his face. Scott had given her the look a thousand times during their marriage — the Charlie's-crazy-look.
Charlie frowned. Well maybe she would after all. “I’m not going to tell you that you're an idiot. No matter what your father wants.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your father and those are his words, not mine, by the way.”
“My father?”
“I see what you did there.” Jason’s father waggled a finger at her and grinned. “You're a spunky thing aren’t cha?” Jason's father looked her up and down. “A little on the skinny side, but still, I like you.”
“Yes. Your father is here,” Charlie said softly.
“That's not funny.” Jason’s usual irritation with her dissipated.
“Good, ‘cause I’m not joking.” Charlie refused to back down. Maybe this was the only way she would get him to believe her. “So when did your father pass away?”
“Hello! I’m still here. Obviously, I haven’t passed anywhere. Sheesh.” The older Tate folded his arms across his see-through chest. Charlie noticed the clothes the apparition wore were stained with both sweat and blood.
“What happened?” Charlie shifted her attention to the spirit.
“Why don’t you tell me? You’re supposed to be the psychic,” Jason scoffed.
“He doesn’t believe I can talk to you,” Charlie said.
“Yeah, he always was thick. Just like his mother.”
Charlie scowled. “You know you keep making cracks like that and I won’t help you.”
Jason’s eyes widened, and he took a step back. He glanced at the closed door as if he was trying to determine the best way to get out of her presence.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” The older Tate held up his hands in surrender.
; Charlie shrugged. “Fine. What is it you want him to know?”
The apparition turned to his son and looked him up and down. He sighed, even though he couldn’t really breathe anymore and scrubbed his chin with his hand. Charlie had seen this a lot with spirits. So many times their mannerisms followed them into death.
“All right, tell him that in that box I left him, there is a key. He wanted to know what it was for. It’s to a bus locker at the Atlanta bus depot. He knows the one I’m talking about. Tell him I left him something in that locker.”
“I don’t know what your problem is Ms. Payne, but I think this conversation is over.” Jason reached for the door. “Thank you for the tips. And I’ll look into it.”
“You father wants you to know the key you found in the box he left you, is to a bus locker in the Atlanta terminal. He says you know the one I'm talking about. He wants you to know there's something that he left you in that locker.”
Jason's face blanched. “Oh yeah? Anything else?”
Charlie glanced toward the older Tate.
“Yeah,” Mr. Tate said. “Ask him what the hell was he thinking wasting a whole bottle of Johnny Walker?”
Charlie struggled to look at Jason for a minute. It was always the really personal things that she hated conveying when they were unwanted. It almost never made a believer out of those who refused to see the truth. Lisa had once told her it was cognitive dissonance. Sometimes people just couldn’t get past long-held beliefs, no matter what their ears and eyes told them.
“What, you're not gonna tell him?” the older Tate asked. He threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell good are you?”
“Just so you know your father's a jerk,” Charlie said turning away from the apparition.
“Oh-kaaay,” Jason said, drawing out the word.
“Just my luck,” Jason’s father ranted. “I finally find someone who can hear me and she hates me.”
Charlie blew out a heavy sigh and glared at the spirit. Passing on his message looked to be the only way to get him to shut up. “Fine,” she said. “Your father wants to know why you would waste a whole bottle of Johnny Walker like that?”
Jason’s eyebrows shot up and he opened the door to the interrogation room, ushering her out. “Yeah it's time for you to go now.”
“Wait. Please tell me that you'll consider what I told you about. And if it helps, the convenience store had a logo on the gas pumps. It was a hare and turtle.”
“Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks,” Jason said, curtly. He nudged her elbow. “Bye-bye now.”
Charlie turned and walked away. She could feel Jason staring a hole through the back of her head. She was glad when she stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed behind her, freeing her from the weight of his glare.
Chapter 15
Jason sat in the waiting room of the West Ashley offices of Low Country Women's Care, thinking about his encounter with Charlie Payne. He had almost convinced himself that his mother might have said something to her about the key in the box — but his mother only knew about the box, not its contents. And how the hell did she know about the whiskey he’d poured on his father’s grave? He had never told anyone about that, not even his mother. He wanted to believe Charlie was a fraud, a con artist, but those things she knew were personal. Too personal.
Three pregnant women were in the waiting room with him. One leafed through an old copy of Southern Living and the other two eyed him suspiciously, keeping their hands protectively over their bellies. The woman with dark curly hair sitting across from him kept glancing from his face to his gun. He gave her a smile, but she clutched her belly tighter.
“Officer Tate.” A pretty young nurse appeared at the door leading to the back offices. “Dr. Carver will see you now.”
Jason gave the woman across from him a nod and rose to his feet. He followed the nurse through the maze of hallways to Scott Carver's office. A heavy cherry desk was centered in the large space in front of a floor to ceiling window overlooking the marsh behind the building. Carved cherry bookshelves full of medical books lined the far wall and two leather chairs faced the desk.
“You can wait in here. He’ll just be a few minutes,” the nurse said. She closed the door behind her and he walked around looking at the titles of the books and the collectibles displayed among them. There was a baseball signed by Babe Ruth inside a clear acrylic case. A framed Atlanta Braves Jersey hung on the wall and an array of pictures in black frames with white mats hung inside the bookshelf. Each one had a label and was of the doctor and what Jason presumed was his son. Fishing at Edisto beach. Sailing in the Caribbean. Fly-fishing in Montana. Surfing in Hawaii. Paddle boarding at Folly Beach. Kayaking down the Edisto River. They looked happy in every photo. They also looked like they belonged inside an outdoorsman's catalog. Of course there were no pictures of Charlie, but why would there be?
The door opened Dr. Scott Carver walked through with his hand extended. He smiled and his perfect, white teeth gleamed. Jason could see why they had been together. She was gorgeous, and he looked like he belonged inside the pages of a men’s magazine. Jason wondered what exactly had torn them apart. Most men, in his experience, were willing to put up with a little crazy, especially with a wife that looked like Charlie Payne. Maybe she had become too much to handle or maybe she just didn’t fit into the image the man had of himself.
“Hi,” he said. “I'm Dr. Carver. It’s Sergeant Tate, right?”
Jason took his hand and shook it. “Yes.”
“Please take a seat.” Scott pointed to the chairs and moved behind his desk to the high-backed leather chair. “So how can I help you today?”
“As I said on the phone, I wanted to ask you a few questions about your ex-wife.” The leather of the seat creaked as Jason sat down. He pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket.
“Charlie.” Scott folded his hands and his expression became unreadable. “Is she in trouble?”
“I can’t really comment on the case I’m working, but she’s come to me with some information and I’m just following up.”
“Information? What sort of Information?”
“Sorry I can’t really go into an active investigation.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He couldn’t talk about an active investigation but the good doctor didn’t need to know the details of his real motives. “What I can say is that Ms. Payne has come forward with some information and there are some doubts about its validity.”
“Really?” Scott said. “I’m not really sure how I can help you. Charlie and I really only see each other to facilitate our custody agreement.”
Jason gave him a closed mouth smile. “It appears there’s been some allegations in the case I’m investigating. Your wife—”
“Ex-wife,” Scott corrected.
“Right, ex-wife. Has come forward with some pretty extraordinary claims.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, seems she thinks she knows something about a girl that’s gone missing from one of the islands based on a dream.”
Scott’s jaw clenched. “Really?”
“Yes, and interestingly enough, some of the information seems to be true.”
“I see.” Scott’s tone became curt. “I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”
“I’m just trying to get some background on her. It’s my understanding she spent some time at MUSC for psychological issues.”
Scott’s face shifted into neutral, giving nothing away. “I see.”
Jason smiled. “You see what?”
“Sergeant, I’m sure you’ve already checked her out, right? Seen her website?”
Jason stayed silent, keeping his gaze steady and Scott shifted in his chair again.
Scott scowled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He fiddled with the small globe paperweight in front of him. “As you know, my ex-wife believes she’s psychic.”
“But you don’t.”
“There’s no such thing. Don’t get me wrong, I believe certain people can be h
ighly intuitive. But trust me when I tell you this—there are no psychics. There are no dead people walking around needing someone like my wife—”
“Ex-wife,” Jason corrected.
Scott’s jaw clenched. “Ex-wife. There are spirits waiting for Charlie to help them cross over to heaven or hell or wherever it is she believes they go.”
“So you’re saying your ex-wife is a liar?”
“No—” Scott backpedaled and bitterness tinged his words. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Scott paused as if he were thinking about how to proceed next. His lips twisted into a grimace. “It’s easy to get caught up in Charlie’s web. Don’t buy into her delusions. It will lead you to places you don’t want to go and honestly, it may jeopardize your case.” Scott sat back in his high-backed leather chair and propped his chin up on his thumb and forefinger. “You know Charlie's had her problems.”
Jason nodded. “What kind of problems?”
Scott hesitated. “Mental problems. If I were you, I would seriously not take anything she says seriously.”
“So you were married, what? Eight years?”
“Yes.”
“And in all that time, she never convinced you? Never connected you with a dead relative or—”
“No.” Scott answered too quickly and sounded as if Jason had hit a nerve. The good doctor shifted in his seat and held his gaze too steady on Jason’s. One thing Jason knew about liars was they either couldn’t look you in the eye, or they wouldn’t look away while they lied. Scott Carver was lying. What Jason wasn’t sure of, was if Scott was lying to himself. “She tried, but like I said it’s a delusion and anything she may have come up with was just emotional blackmail.”
“And I bet you told her too, didn’t you?” Jason leaned forward. “Is that why she tried to commit suicide?”
Scott tipped his chin up. “You know about that?”
“Like you said, I’ve checked her out.”
“Then you know all you need to know about my wife. I really don’t think there’s anything else I can add.”
“I see,” Jason rose to his feet.