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

by Wendy Wang

“I didn't want to at first. It seemed sort of weird, you know? But once I got over my fear that I was somehow taking advantage I gave myself permission to make a living using my gifts. It's not really any different than someone who can sing or write or paint. And what I give people has been really meaningful to them. Or at least that's what they’ve told me.”

  “I can only imagine. Do any of your cousins share your talent??”

  Charlie glanced at the counter where Jen was chatting up a customer and pouring coffee. “My cousins have their own gifts. But not like mine. My son seems to be showing signs that may he may have inherited a little of what I have, though.”

  “You have a son? How old is he?”

  “He just turned eleven in July.”

  Tom glanced at her hand and his brow wrinkled with curiosity. “But you're not married?”

  “Not anymore. We divorced a couple years ago.”

  “I see.” Tom fixed his gaze on her. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks and the fluttering in her stomach moved to her chest. “I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not. If you were still with him, you wouldn't be here with me today.”

  Charlie let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “I'm not sure exactly how to respond to that.”

  “Your response is perfect. I’m just going to throw this out there — get it out of the way. I like you, Charlie. I don't want to put you off, but I don't want you to be wondering either.”

  Charlie shifted in her seat. Her face grew hotter. “I — uh.”

  “It's all right. Again, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Although you’re adorable when you blush.”

  Charlie laughed.

  “I just want you to know where I stand,” he said softly.

  “Wow. You certainly know how to make a girl feel wanted.” She sat back and fanned herself with a napkin, unable to stop the grin taking over her face. “It’s definitely flattering.”

  Her hands fidgeted with the napkin. “I haven't done this in a really long time. I was with my husband from the time I was 20 years old until I was almost 30.”

  “And you haven't dated anyone since your divorce?”

  “I haven't really had time or the inclination, honestly.”

  Tom sat back against the cushioned backrest of the booth. His eyes scrutinized her. “Not even that deputy you work with?”

  “Jason? How do you even know about Jason?” Charlie tipped her head.

  “Small town and people like to talk.”

  “Yes, they do.” Charlie nodded. “Jason is my work partner but that's about as far as it goes.”

  Tom's lips twisted into a wry smile. “Glad to hear it. Then maybe you'll let me take you on a real date.”

  “Wait, this isn't a real date?” Charlie said deadpan. She folded her arms across her chest. “Does that mean you're not buying breakfast? Because that's the only reason I came.”

  Tom feigned disappointment. “Oh, I see how it is now.”

  Charlie smirked and nodded. “Yes, it's all about the free food for me.”

  He chuckled. “Well at least I'm going in with my eyes open.”

  “Well, if you're gonna sweep me off my feet — I guess I'll have to go out to dinner with you on a real date,” Charlie teased

  “Wonderful. Dinner with me. Saturday night.”

  Charlie’s stomach flip-flopped and she smiled. “Okay. Saturday night it is.”

  “I don't have much time,” Charlie announced as she sat down in the chair next to Jason's desk. She put a small bakery box down on top of a pile of file folders.

  “What’s this?”

  “Peanut butter and jelly muffin.”

  Jason flipped open the top and pressed his nose in close, taking a deep sniff. He broke the muffin in half and took a large bite, moaning a little. “Oh, my god I love these things.”

  “I had another dream,” Charlie said.

  Jason said something to her but it was garbled. She tried not to laugh at the little bit of jelly clinging to the corner of his mouth. She reached into her purse and pulled out a travel size pack of baby wipes. “Here.”

  Jason took the wipe and cleaned his lips. He swallowed before trying to speak again. “What was your dream?”

  “Haley and Emma kidnapped Brianna then they dumped her at this old haunted house.”

  “Okay — Did they kill her?”

  “I – I don’t know. Someone put a noose around her neck and she ended up falling to her death. She never did see their faces.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I was in her head. I saw what she saw.” Charlie frowned. “Sorry.”

  “So, what happened to her body?”

  “I don’t know. That’s something we need to figure out.”

  “I’m still waiting on the missing persons reports from ten years ago,” he said. “Any chance there was a flashing neon sign with the address?”

  “Ha ha. You're hilarious. Give me back my muffin.” She held her hand out for the box. Jason picked up what was left of the sweet pastry and scarfed it down. He washed it down with a sip of coffee and tossed the empty box into the trashcan next to his desk.

  Charlie rolled her eyes. “What do you want to do?”

  “Hard to bring Emma in without something more concrete than your dream, especially since it was so long ago.”

  “I wish we knew who the other girls were,” Charlie said. “Then maybe we could tell her we have witnesses.

  “What other girls?” Jason said.

  “Emma and Haley didn’t do this without a consensus from a group of girls running the sorority. Which means there were other people who knew exactly where they were taking her. Maybe they didn’t realize what would happen to Brianna. I don’t know, but as far as I’m concerned, they all got their hands dirty when they voted her out.”

  “Would you recognize the faces?”

  “I think so.”

  “Great. What time do you get off work?”

  “Seven-thirty. Why?”

  “Maybe we could take a little trip to the library. I can show you the yearbook where I found Emma's picture.”

  “I can’t tonight. I promised Jen I’d help her with something.”

  “Okay, what about tomorrow?”

  “I’m working till six tomorrow. And tomorrow night I’ve got a date. Maybe day after?”

  Jason's mouth pressed into a flat line. “You have a date?”

  “Yeah. Tom Sharon’s taking me to dinner.”

  “So now you're dating Mr. Death?”

  “Oh my god, he is not Mr. Death,” She said. “I am never bringing you muffins again.”

  “You're the one that told me that he was surrounded by death.”

  “You don't have to be such a jerk about it.”

  Jason shrugged. “I'm not the one dating Mr. Death.”

  “Will you stop saying that!”

  “Come on, you know I’m just teasing you. God, you're as bad as your cousin Lisa. Can't take a joke.”

  Charlie bristled. “It’s not funny.”

  “It’s a little funny,” Jason muttered.

  Charlie clucked her tongue and glanced at the clock. She stood up. “I have to go. My shift starts in less than an hour.”

  “Call you later to set up a time to go?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said. “Talk to you later.”

  Chapter 14

  Saturday night Tom picked Charlie up at 7 PM on the dot. He wore black jeans and black Chuck Taylor's and a striped gray t-shirt. His dark brown hair fell in soft waves across his forehead and when she opened the door, his warm brown eyes made her heart flutter.

  “Wow, you look beautiful,” he said stepping inside the cottage.

  She wore her long blonde hair in a loose ponytail, and soft tendrils curled around her face. The pink maxi dress she wore had faint orange lines around the bust. Lisa had teased her when she bought the dress, calling it strawberry and tangerine sherbet. Charlie didn't care though, she loved the colors together and she loved the cut of the dress.
It was light, flowy, and feminine. If the evening had been even slightly cooler she might have considered wearing a white sweater but the low was only supposed to be 75.

  “I thought it would be fun to go for a walk on the beach. Maybe have dinner down at one of the restaurants.”

  “I think that's a great idea. I love the beach.”

  “Me too. Although I don't get to go very often.”

  “No, I suppose you don't.”

  “No, unfortunately, death waits for no man.” He used a light tone, and Charlie surmised it was his way of deprecating the darkness of his profession. “Shall we?”

  Charlie nodded and he led her to his car, a Black Ford Fusion sedan. He opened the door. She slid inside and settled into the soft black leather. “Nice,” she said running her hand across the edge of this seat. “Is this a hybrid?”

  Tom turned the key in the ignition before fastening his seatbelt. “It is.”

  “I don't think I've ever ridden in hybrid before.” She glanced around. Her ex had preferred BMW to almost anything else, and he didn't believe in hybrid cars. He was convinced they didn't really save much gas.

  “Well, this will be a night of firsts, I guess.” Tom smiled and put the car in gear.

  The streets of Palmetto Point were still bustling with people as Tom pulled into the parking lot of El Capitan restaurant on Conch Drive. Just because summer was over didn't mean the tourists had left; September meant long warm days. The out-of-towners didn’t really disappear until after Thanksgiving when most of the beach homeowners closed up their houses for the winter. He took her hand in his as they walked into the restaurant, sending a thrill through Charlie. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. They stopped in front of a chalkboard sign with the specials.

  “Anything tempt you?” he asked, tugging her a little closer.

  His arm brushed against hers and she laughed nervously. She read over the sign. “Crab legs look good.”

  “You had soft shell crab for our first meal together. I’m sensing a theme here,” he teased.

  “Well, I grew up on an island. Loving seafood is kind of a requirement,” she grinned and leaned in closer, letting her arm rest against his side. “Just for the record, crab is my favorite.”

  “Good to know,” he said.

  Several minutes later the hostess seated them, and Charlie scanned the menu.

  “So, do you know what you want?” Tom asked perusing the menu. “If you’re really hungry we could have an appetizer. Maybe some she-crab soup?”

  “I love it, but it’s too much food for me. I’m thinking I might try the stuffed flounder.”

  “I thought you were getting crab legs.”

  Charlie chuckled. “Too messy for a first date. Can’t have you thinking I eat like a pig just yet.”

  “Right, can’t see that side of you at least until the third date,” he quipped. “Good thinking.”

  “There a lot of good things here though,” she mused, glancing down at the menu again. “The low-country boil looks good, but I’m spoiled.”

  “Why is that?”

  “My uncle makes a mean low country boil. He always includes blue crabs.”

  “An anarchist.” Tom teased.

  Charlie laughed. “That's definitely my uncle Jack.”

  “So, you're close with your family.”

  “I wasn’t for a while, but I am now.” She paused, trying to keep Scott out of the conversation if she could.

  “Was it because they didn't like your husband?” he asked.

  Charlie fidgeted with her silverware. “It was more him than them. He didn’t really like my family.”

  Tom nodded and glanced down at the menu again. “That must've been really difficult.”

  Charlie looked around. Where was an interrupting waitress when she needed one? “Sure. But we’re all mended now, and I see my cousins all the time.”

  “What about your parents? Do you see them?”

  “My parents died when I was little. My grandmother raised me.”

  “Is she still with us?” he asked cautiously.

  “No,” Charlie gave him a sad smile. “She died a few months before I got married.”

  “I’m sorry. Were you close?”

  “Very. Looking back, I think it would have made her sad to think I got married to my ex.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, well she hated him. Thought he was stuck up and selfish and a few choice expletives that I won’t share.” She chuckled.

  “Is he? Stuck up?”

  Charlie sat her menu on the table and studied Tom’s face, considering his question. It would be easy to paint Scott as the asshole he sometimes was. But he was also a good father for the most part, and she knew that the actions he took were more out of fear than contempt for her – fear of the unknown. Fear of what he didn't understand logically. Was it fair for her to color Tom's ideas about her ex-husband? Did Scott just paint her with one solid brush of my ex-wife is crazy? She swallowed hard and feared he probably did, but she didn’t have do that.

  “He’s pretty much as flawed as I am,” Charlie said.

  “You don’t seem very flawed to me.” Tom leaned forward with his elbows on the table and smiled.

  Charlie’s face heated and she opened to mouth to speak.

  “What can I get for y'all?” The young waitress wore tight jeans and a tight red polo shirt with El Capitan embroidered just above her left breast. A clip held her straight brown hair back in a cute, messy bun. When she smiled, her white teeth almost glowed against her tan skin.

  “Saved by the bell,” Charlie let out a breathy laugh and looked him straight in the eye. “You know, I think I will have the crab legs.”

  Tom glanced at the waitress and handed her the menu. “Make that two.”

  He waited for the waitress to walk away. “So are these flaws why you divorced your husband?”

  Charlie picked up her water glass and took a sip. “What makes you think he didn't divorce me?”

  He leaned forward and his eyes smoldered as a grin stretched his lips. “For one thing, you’re endlessly fascinating.”

  Charlie laughed and folded her arms across her chest.

  “Seriously I'd like to know, if you want to share.”

  She took a deep breath and looked Tom squarely in the eyes. “He didn't believe in me.”

  Tom's intense gaze darkened. “In what way?”

  “He doesn't believe in ghosts or psychics or anything outside of the realm of hard science.”

  “What about God? Does he believe in God?”

  “He was raised in the Catholic Church.”

  “That didn't really answer my question.”

  “He goes to church on Christmas and Easter with his mother. Sometimes he takes Evan, although Evan hates it because it's stuffy and smells like old people.”

  Tom chuckled and took a sip of his water. “What exactly do old people smell like?”

  “Pee and Ben Gay.” She laughed and rolled her eyes.

  “The musings of an eleven-year-old. Sounds about right then.” Tom laced his hands together, and his eyes fixed her to the spot. “So, you were together for ten years. How could you be with someone for so long who didn't believe in you?”

  Charlie felt her cheeks burn hotter and she glanced around the restaurant. There were still plenty of sunburned couples and locals who were enjoying the last of their happy hour Margarita after work. She sighed. “Isn't it bad juju to talk about your ex on your first date?”

  His golden eyes glittered with mischief. “But it's not really our first date. Technically, if I think about it, it’s our third.”

  “How do you get that?”

  “We’ve dined together two other times.”

  “Well, the first one doesn’t really count, because I didn’t even like you then,” she quipped. Tom laughed, deep and hearty, at her assertion. The sound wrapped around her senses, warming her to her core. “And the second doesn’t count either because you didn’t pay fo
r it.”

  He scoffed. “Neither did you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, regardless of who paid, I think we’re well into the territory where we bear our souls.”

  Charlie grinned and shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to bear anything just yet.” It felt so good to joke and be light.

  Tom shrugged a shoulder and his lips stretched into a wry grin. “Can you blame me for trying?”

  “No, I suppose I can’t.”

  “Well, hopefully someday soon you’ll tell me more.” He stretched his arm across the table and held his palm up, beckoning her to take it.

  Charlie could not take her eyes off his long slender fingers. Those hands seemed to be built for playing a musical instrument, like piano or guitar. She slipped her hand into his and an image of his hands wrapped in latex, shoving a needle into a pale white neck and blood flowing into a long tube popped into her head. She squeezed hard fighting the urge to jerk her hand back and blinked away the image.

  Tom folded his fingers around hers. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” Charlie smiled but her stomach turned sour. Not even crab legs sounded good anymore.

  “You saw something.” He glanced from side to side, as if trying to find the source. “A spirit?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “Nothing like that. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I saw.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Sometimes she understood why Scott had worked so hard not to believe in her gift despite evidence to the contrary. Sometimes, she wished she had that luxury too.

  Charlie couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a good time. She looked down at their hands, which were joined over the cup-holders separating the front seats of Tom's car. After dinner, he'd taken her to the beach just as he promised, and they took off their shoes and dipped their feet into the cool ocean water. The smile on his lips had not weakened since their first touch. He pulled into the driveway that led toward her uncle’s. The road split. The left road led to the house and the right led to the cottage on her uncle’s vast property. A small grove of trees formed a V where the road forked, but once he turned into her gravel driveway the trees thinned and then gave way to a wide expanse of grass. Her uncle’s big house glowed with life and light even at this hour. The security light on the cottage was on and as they drew closer to the cottage, her heart leapt into her throat. Scott’s black BMW sedan was parked behind her Honda.