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

by Wendy Wang

  “What?” Lisa scoffed. “All you have to do is watch any true crime show to know that if you force a psycho killer into a corner, he will kill you! And bury you in his back yard! Or shed as the case may be.”

  “That vein on your forehead is bulging.” Jen smirked. Lisa rolled her eyes and scowled.

  “Well, I think you could at least tell Jason,” Lisa said.

  “No, I can't. He hates it when I do this kind of stuff.”

  “Well, I wonder why?” Lisa said, her tone full of sarcasm.

  “Honestly, this case is not one of his big priorities anymore. It's cold. If it weren't for the parents checking in with him as often as they do I don't think he would even have time to look at it again.”

  “Well, I don’t want to know the details. I’m an officer of the court, and I have a duty to report criminal behavior if I know about it.”

  “At this point I just need to see if Trini shows up at his house. From there maybe I can figure something out.”

  “You're not planning on breaking in, are you? No—wait don't tell me.” Lisa held up her hands. “I don't want to know.”

  “Just make sure your phone is charged and on,” Jen joked. “In case, you know, you need to bail us out of jail or something.”

  “This is crazy. I mean how do you know he has anything to do with Trini?”

  “Because she was trying to tell me he does.” Charlie pulled the picture of Trini sitting on her bike at the end of her driveway from her purse and handed it to Lisa.

  “Is that blood?” Lisa’s voice rose a half-octave. She brushed her thumb across the dark brown smudge.

  “Yeah. It appeared as soon as I picked up the picture. Only it was fresh then.”

  Lisa blew out a heavy sigh. “I don’t like this.”

  “Fine, you don’t like it. Is that going to keep you from bailing us out if we get into trouble?” Jen asked, sounding exasperated.

  Charlie reached into her purse and pulled out missing flyers for four other girls and laid them on the breakfast bar. “All of these girls went missing over the last twenty-five years, and that doesn’t even count Trini and Macey or the ones that never made it to the Internet.”

  Lisa picked up one of the fliers.

  Her face softened as she stared down at the picture of the smiling girl – Melissa Benton. “Did they all go missing from the same area?”

  “Close enough,” Jen said. “Show her.”

  Charlie pulled the map from her purse and laid it out on the counter. Jen had marked the areas where the six girls had gone missing.

  “I couldn't find anything in any of the newspaper articles I read online that tied them together,” Jen said.

  “Well, other than the fact that they were all in my dream,” Charlie said.

  “That won’t exactly hold up in court though. You need physical evidence for this to work.”

  “I know,” Charlie said. “Which is why I want to get in that shed.”

  “I just really don't like this at all,” Lisa said, folding her arms and blowing out a deep breath. “It is not just the legal implications I'm talking about. This is seriously dangerous. Do you know how many people own guns in this state?”

  “I know,” Jen and Charlie said simultaneously. They glanced at each other.

  “But if we don't do this, Lisa, he could do it again, and if he does that blood will be on our hands too,” Charlie said.

  Lisa's mouth flattened into a straight line. “Fine. But you better call me immediately when you are done. Jail or no jail.”

  Charlie grinned. “We wouldn't have it any other way.”

  “Okay, I'm only gonna ask this one more time and then I'm not gonna ask again,” Jen said.

  “You promise?” Charlie gave her cousin a side-eyed grin.

  Jen ignored her. “Are you sure you don't want to call Jason just to let him know what you're doing?”

  “I am positive.” She cocked her head. “I’d rather ask for forgiveness in this case, not permission.”

  Charlie turned into the subdivision and headed toward Kern Street.

  “Okay.” Jen shifted her gaze to the side window and stared into the bright sunny neighborhood. Her hands held tight the plain brown box on her lap. The scent of fried chicken permeated the car interior. “I won't ask again.”

  “Good.” Charlie stopped at the top sign and looked in the rearview mirror. All clear. She pivoted to face her cousin. “Let's go through this one more time.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’re going to knock on the door. Tell him that we’re delivering food. And get ourselves invited in no matter what it takes.”

  “Are you sure this man is a senior?”

  “Pretty sure. I did some online searching for the address and the last name Hatch and found Henry James Hatch Jr., 63 years old. I could've paid fifty dollars and gotten his Social Security number if I'd wanted it.”

  “Ugh,” Jen said. “That reminds me. I need to change all my passwords.”

  “Don't we all.”

  “I wonder if people call him Henry James?”

  “Why, does it matter?” Jen asked.

  “I don't know it just seems like seriously deranged killers all have three names.”

  “First of all, we don't know that he's a deranged killer. For all we know he's just some little old man who hates dogs taking a dump in his yard.”

  “So, he poisoned it?” Jen shook her head, her voice incredulous “Sure, and there's nothing deranged about that.”

  A horn beeped behind Charlie’s car, startling them both.

  “All right, all right,” Charlie said putting the car in gear and turning right on to Kern Street. They wound their way down the street, passing little brick ranch houses.

  “You know, I was really worried when you first started working with Jason.”

  “You were?” Charlie smiled. “Why?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I like Jason, but he was kind of a jerk at first.”

  “Yeah but he's turned out to be a good guy.”

  “Yeah. He has.” Jen’s pensive gaze settled on Charlie as she spoke. “I was afraid this work might harden you too much. Make you hate humanity.”

  “Yeah, well, what’s your assessment so far?” Charlie chided.

  “So far, so good. Same old Charlie.” Jen smiled. “Except for the whole breaking into people’s houses thing that is.”

  Charlie laughed and pulled into the driveway. She put the car in park and took a deep breath. “You ready?”

  “As I'll ever be,” Jen said. Her hands gripped the box lunch sitting on her lap. The address was scrawled across the top.” What happens if he won't take the food?”

  “We'll jump off that bridge when we get to it. Come on,” Charlie said.

  The two women exited the car and headed toward the front porch. Charlie's heart thudded in her throat so hard she was afraid her voice would shake when he finally came to the door. She pressed the button next to the door. They waited for several minutes before ringing it again. Charlie pressed her ear to the door.

  “I can hear the TV. He's gotta be in there.”

  “Should we be worried? I mean if he really is an old man what if he's hurt or worse?” Jen said.

  Charlie wrapped her knuckles hard on the front door. A moment later it swung open. A sour-faced man wearing an oxygen cannula strung over his ears appeared. His thin white hair receded half way on top of his head revealing dark brown liver spots. His wild bushy eyebrows reminded Charlie of silver caterpillars she’d seen in one of Evan’s science books. Fluffy but deadly.

  “Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying it.” He leaned on a walking cane with four feet that disappeared into cut tennis balls. The cannula just below his nose was attached to a long piece of tubing that disappeared deep into the house. “Now get outta here before I call the police,” he grumbled. He started to slam the door and Charlie stuck her foot into the opening.

  “Wait,” Charlie said. “We're not selling anyth
ing. We’re just here to deliver your lunch.”

  Cautiously he opened the door a little wider, his eyes scanning each of their faces. “I didn't order no food. Now get out here.”

  Charlie refused to move her foot. “Isn't this 1232 Kern Street?”

  “Yeah, so?” he challenged.

  “Well, that's the address we have,” Charlie glanced at Jen. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes,” Jen held up the box. She tipped it a little so he could see the top. “We’re supposed to deliver this to 1232 Kern Street.”

  “Why?”

  “As part of our senior outreach program at Palmetto Point Methodist Church,” Jen said. Charlie was amazed at how smoothly she lied. There wasn't even a tremor in her voice.

  “I don't go to the Methodist Church. I don't go to church at all.”

  “Huh,” Jen puckered her mouth. “Well, that's really strange, because this is the address they gave us. They even wrote it on top of the box.”

  He eyed the box and then glanced up at each of them again. There was a grayness to his skin and lips, and his dark eyes were sunken into thick folds of skin.

  “Gimme just a second and I'll call them and see what's going on. Maybe they got the address wrong.” Jen handed Charlie the box. She pulled the phone from her pocket and walked away.

  “We’ll get this all straightened out, sir.” Charlie called up a smile. “I appreciate your patience.” He continued to look at the box. Charlie threw a quick glance over her shoulder at her cousin who was at the bottom of the steps walking in a circle talking on the phone. Charlie wondered if she was really speaking to someone or was it all just pretend. Maybe she had called Lisa.

  A few seconds later she pressed a red circle on her screen and tucked her phone back into the pocket of her jeans.

  “Well,” Jen said looking serious. “I'm not sure exactly what happened. They said this is the address but I told them that you didn't want the food. They told me just to throw it away. Which is a real shame because it really smells delicious.”

  “Well,” the man said. His gaze never left the box and his tongue darted from his mouth, licking his lips. “What is it?”

  “Fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, cornbread and honey butter and for dessert some apple cobbler. Can you tell me where your trashcan is? Do you mind if I just toss it in there?” Jen took the box from Charlie and looked around as if she was looking for the large green bins the county provided.

  The man's nose flared a little and Charlie thought he might lose his cannula. She suppressed a smile. Her cousin was good at manipulation. Maybe a little too good.

  “Well, let's not go crazy now,” he said. “I mean it does have my address on it.”

  “Oh, I thought you didn't want it,” Jen said.

  “I never said I didn't want it. I just said I didn't order it,” he protested. He took one hand off his cane and held it out. “I'll take it. I don't like to see food wasted like that. Shameful.”

  “Yes sir, it is. I will definitely have to let them know how you feel about that,” Jen said. He struggled with the box and his cane, almost spilling it.

  “Here,” Charlie grabbed him by the elbow, helping him keep his balance and Jen took the box. “Let us help you. I mean it's what we do.”

  He eyed them both cautiously again but finally nodded. Charlie walked beside him and Jen followed closing the door behind them.

  The small foyer opened to a small living room. The scent of old age and solitude permeated the air — a mix of decay and mustiness, menthol, and rotting newsprint. The cold stagnant air tasted as if none of the windows had been opened in years.

  Charlie looked over the house trying to remain objective. Grubby green and brown shag carpeting was threadbare in some places, showing the promise of oak flooring beneath it. Stacks of magazines and newspapers lined the walls and were piled on top of every available surface. A new flat-screen television sat in the corner almost directly in front of a dingy brown recliner. The pretend leather had cracked and peeled in places, and some spots had been repaired with gray duct tape. The long tubing of his cannula was attached to a bottle of oxygen sitting at the base of the chair. A metal tray table held an array of medications within reach.

  “Is there another tray table, sir?” Jen looked around.

  He grunted and sat down in his chair, wheezing a bit as he pointed to the holder with the three remaining tray tables folded up next to the television.

  Jen took one from the rack holding them in place and unfolded it, placing it in front of him. Charlie watched Jen place the box on the tray table, her mind racing. How could they stay long enough for her to get a look around? She eyed the refrigerator through a small hallway.

  “Let me get you something to drink.” She pointed to the closed door next to the pass through. “Is the kitchen through here?”

  He began to cough and nod at the same time. His face turned red, and his wrinkles deepened as he hacked and wheezed. Jen patted him on the back and looked up to Charlie. Jen’s blue eyes widened and her usually sunny expression morphed into a be-careful look.

  Charlie nodded. She headed into the small kitchen, listening as Jen tried to soothe him. Was this old man—broken and dying now—the monster? Charlie's heart settled at the base of her throat beating in a hard, steady rhythm— a ticking clock reminding her to work fast.

  The almond-colored laminate counters of the kitchen were dingy and stained. The distinct odor of mold and curdled milk permeated the air. Dirty dishes and empty food cans and containers covered most of the countertops. A fly crawled out of an old empty milk container and Charlie’s stomach turned. A small table covered in more newspapers and used paper plates was pushed against the far wall. Next to it was another door leading to a darkened hallway.

  She scanned the dingy pine cabinets and started with the farthest ones out of sight of the pass through. He couldn’t see her with his chair turned toward the television, but she didn’t want to take the chance. Adrenaline pumped through her, and she opened and closed the doors quickly, pretending to look for a glass.

  There were plenty of dishes and plastic containers stuffed inside. She found coffee cups, mugs, and jelly jar glasses with cartoon characters on them in the cabinet closest to the sink. She glanced through the door at her cousin who was fawning over the old man sitting in his chair. At the back of the kitchen was a door with a paned window. She could see the shed in the backyard. What was in there that Trini wanted her to see so badly?

  A blast of cold blew down her back, and she shivered looking for the source. Her gaze went to a vent in the ceiling. She held her hand up to it, but only a trickle of cold air filtered across her fingers. The hair on her arms and neck stood up, and she suddenly sensed someone watching her. Slowly Charlie looked over her shoulder, halfway expecting the old man to be standing in the door staring at her. Instead a girl with familiar red hair and faded blue eyes peeked at her from the hallway. Charlie’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Trini?” Charlie whispered. The girl didn’t say a word but pointed toward a yellowed plastic key-holder in the shape of a house hanging next to the door. The hooks were empty. Where were the keys?

  Jen cleared her throat making Charlie look her way. Jen’s eyebrows rose and she nodded toward the old man. Hurry-up, her blue eyes said.

  Charlie grabbed one of the jelly jar glasses and headed to the old avocado green fridge. She opened the freezer and pulled out an ice tray. The ice cracked and popped as she twisted the plastic. She dropped a couple of cubes into the glass. As she went to put the tray back, something silver caught her eye. Inside the shelf of the freezer’s outer door were keys in a jar with no top. Her chest filled with cold dread. She glanced at the doorway where Trini had stood. The girl was no longer there. Charlie took a deep breath, and reached inside. The icy metal burned her fingertips, but she pulled out the ring with a dozen or more keys dangling from it. Most were too big to be padlock keys but there were several that could h
ave matched the size. Charlie wrapped her fingers around the frozen metal, and slipped the keys into her pocket. Quickly, she finished filling the glass with water and headed back into the living room.

  “Here you go.” Charlie handed him the glass, her voice steady, almost cheerful.

  “You gonna be all right here by yourself?” Jen asked. The concern in her voice was real, and Charlie hoped her cousin's empathy would not be wasted if this man did turn out to be the monster.

  “I'm fine,” he said. He didn't look up, instead he speared the green beans with a plastic fork Jen had brought and then shoved them in his mouth.

  “Is there anything else we can do for you while we're here?” Charlie asked.

  He grunted and stopped eating. He looked up at Charlie’s face with narrowed eyes full of suspicion.

  “No. Y'all can see yourselves out now.”

  Charlie forced a close-lipped smile. “Well, enjoy your lunch.”

  He grunted again, picked up the fried chicken thigh and dug his yellow-stained teeth into it.

  “You have a blessed day, sir,” Jen said. “Come on Charlie. We have other deliveries to make.”

  Jen sidled up to her and looped her arm through Charlie's, giving her a gentle pull toward the door.

  Charlie threw one last glance over her shoulder before they left the house. If it had been another person or different day maybe she would've felt sorry for him for having to spend every day alone in a house that smelled like rot and mold, surrounded by nothing but junk and newspapers.

  It was then she realized Jen was wrong. This work had changed her. Had made her harder. It had just lifted the rosy glasses she used to see people through and exposed the darkness inside. Now she knew that evil didn't always look the way it was portrayed on television or in movies with some maniacal villain. Sometimes it just looked like a sad old man, rotting away in his loneliness.

  Once they were out the door and down the steps, Charlie stopped and gulped in deep breaths of clean autumn air. “I swear to god the air in their smelled like death.”

  “I know. I thought the same thing. I bet he's got mold and dry rot going on. Poor old man. He’s got lung cancer.”