The Witches Ladder

by Wendy Wang

  “Where the hell did he go?” Beck asked.

  “They spend more time underneath the water than on top of it. Unless they're sunning on a bank,” Jason said. He stood up and put his hands on his hips and faced his partner.

  “How do you know?” Beck asked.

  “I happen to have gone through the nature center before. You'd know that too if you'd ever done anything to educate yourself.”

  “Do you think he's just down there? Lying in wait?” Beck asked.

  “I don't know.” Jason glanced back at the spot where the gator had been floating beneath the body. “Maybe. Or maybe he just decided he didn't have much of a chance of getting a meal.”

  “Well, either way,” the sheriff interjected. “We still need to get that body down so we can start our investigation. I'm going to go handle the press.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jason said.

  “Yes, sir,” Beck glanced over his shoulder.

  The sheriff walked away, his heavy boots sounding hollow against the gray wood of the boardwalk. When his gaze shifted from their boss back to Jason, Beck wore a smirk on his thick lips. “Nice jewelry.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jason said.

  Beck pointed to his neck. “What is that? Some sort of star? Did you convert to Judaism all of a sudden?”

  Jason scrambled to put the pendant that had slipped out, back inside his undershirt.

  “Not your damn business. And I was gonna ask if you all of a sudden converted to being an asshole but I already know the answer to that.”

  Beck made an amused sound in the back of his throat and smirked. “Come on let's get this done.”

  Jason watched the two deputies wearing waders slip into the thigh-high water. The other two deputies moved to the edge of the boardwalk with their rifles ready in case the alligator returned. The pendant Jason wore suddenly felt warm against the skin of his upper chest and he touched his hand to it through his shirt. Two more deputies arrived with the canoe. They slid it onto the boardwalk and into the water and the deputies slipped in without making a splash and guided it toward the tree where the body was suspended.

  Jason scanned the trees. “We should find out what's the easiest routes into the nature preserve from the river or one of the marshes.”

  “What are you thinking?” Beck asked.

  “I doubt this guy came in through the front gate of the nature preserve. Maybe his car is parked at one of the nearby public landings.”

  “Yeah, that's definitely a possibility. The question is why here? I mean what kind of idiot sets up gator lines in a well-known nature preserve? What's the point?”

  “You got me,” Jason said. “People have done stupider shit that's gotten them killed. We should still probably check and see if there's a video feed. Maybe he's been here before scoping out the place. I spotted some cameras on the building when I came in.”

  “Yep. I'm already on it. As soon as the manager of the nature site gets here I'll collect it.”

  They watched as two deputies held the canoe beneath the body. One deputy took a knife from his pocket and sawed through the rope tied around the base of the tree. The body fell with a thud, crashing into the metal canoe. Jason winced at the hollow sound. Beck pulled two pairs of gloves from his front pocket and handed a pair to Jason. Once the divers had retrieved the body, they guided the long green boat back to the boardwalk. It took five men to lift and maneuver the canoe with the body onto the boardwalk. The coroner performed an obligatory pronouncement of death and Jason slid his hands into his gloves and he and Beck began to gather any evidence.

  Beck knelt next to the canoe and dug through the man's pants pockets. “I got a wallet.” He opened the brown folded leather and pulled the license from behind a window of clear plastic. “His name's Tony Smoak.”

  “Does he have anything else?”

  “Yeah.” Beck made face as he reached deeper into the man's front pocket and pulled out a short string of black and white beads. A crushed feather hung on by a thread of what appeared to be hair. Beck held it up to his face. “What the hell?”

  “What is it?”

  Beck inspected the beads more closely. “Holy shit, there are symbols carved into some of these. This looks some hoodoo shit.”

  “Lemme see.” Jason took the strand of beads from his partner and ran his fingers over some of the symbols. He only recognized one of them. A five-sided star like the one on his necklace.

  “Your psychic friend know anything about hoodoo?”

  Jason scowled. “I don't know. Maybe.”

  “Figures.”

  “Shut up and hand me an evidence bag,” Jason said pulling his phone from his front pocket. Beck turned to one of the other deputies and snapped his fingers. Jason glared at him. “You know you could just ask.”

  “Why? He knew what I meant, didn't you deputy?” Beck jerked his thumb toward McCleary.

  McCleary gave Jason a long-suffering look and nodded his head. He took one of the clear baggies with the word evidence printed on it and handed it to Jason. “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Jason said. He slipped the beads into the baggie, then held it up and took a picture of it.

  “You are gonna show that to that psychic of yours, aren't you?” Beck asked, his voice laced with disapproval.

  Jason frowned. “Not every case involves Charlie. But I want a picture of it while I'm doing my research on it.”

  Beck rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever man.” Beck jerked his thumb toward the boardwalk heading back to the nature center. “I'm gonna head back and give a friend of mine with DNR a call to see if he has any maps of the area.”

  “You don't even have to go that far -- the nature center has maps of the property and the whole area,” Jason said.

  “How do you know that?” Beck asked.

  “You've never been through the nature center?” Jason asked.

  “No. Why would I?'

  “Maybe 'cause it's interesting,” Jason said with a snarky tone.

  “Well I'm just a dumb old redneck hick. I'm not all edumacated like you,” Beck shot back, making his accent thicker.

  Jason laughed. “Fuck you. Go on. I'll check in with you later.”

  Beck nodded and headed back toward the parking lot.

  Jason waited until his partner was out of sight before he whipped off a quick text to Charlie and attached the photo.

  Charlie pressed the button on her phone ending her last call and then punched in the four digits for the wrap code indicating she was going to lunch. She grabbed her cell phone from the keyboard tray and glanced at the screen. She had one text. From Jason. She glanced around, surveying her co-workers. They were all on the phone, talking to each other or in a wrap code finishing up their last call. She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out her purse, tucking her phone into the side pocket.

  “I'll see you in thirty,” she said to her co-worker Brian. He looked up from his call and gave her a little salute, then continued with his call.

  Once she left the call center, and headed for the large break room, Charlie pulled her phone from her purse and opened the text and read it. She stopped in her tracks and whipped off her answer. Unlike her son, she had not mastered the ability to text and walk. She tucked the phone into the back pocket of her black pants and continued on to the break room.

  She grabbed her bag out of one of the three refrigerators and chose a diet soda from the vending machine. It was almost three p.m. and she had the break room to herself. She pulled her phone from her pants and laid it on the table next to her lunch bag and began to pull out her salad in a jar and her strawberry yogurt. Her phone beeped and vibrated on the tabletop, startling her. She turned it over and read the one word text. It said: Weirdness. His response to her question of why he needed her. A moment later a photo appeared. She touched it and it filled the small screen of her smart phone. Another text.

  Do you know what this is?

  She opened the photo again and lo
oked over the object - a string of knotted beads. She zoomed in and counted forty knots. Some of the beads were large and grayish white and reminded her of carved bone. Feathers had been attached to the string by what she thought looked like hair.

  It looks like a Witch's Ladder but my cousin Jen or my aunt Evangeline will know for sure.

  What is it for?

  It's used as part of a spell. Where did you get it?

  I found it on a body.

  How did he/she die?

  The verdict is still out on that but the coroner thinks it's probably from a head injury. Won't know for sure until the autopsy is complete. Why?

  Did you touch it?

  The body? Yes.

  NO. The beads. Did you touch the beads with your bare hands or gloved?

  They're evidence. Gloved of course.

  Good. Have the coroner check it for drugs. Specifically hallucinogenic drugs. Something that could be absorbed through skin.

  WTH????!

  If it's a Witch's Ladder it's used to curse someone. As a back up to the curse, it's common to dip the beads in poison or drugs that could either kill directly, or lead to hallucinations which often cause accidents that would lead to death. But even if it tests negative for those things, DO NOT touch it with bare skin. We don't know if we're dealing with a witch or just someone screwing around with something they shouldn't be.

  OK. What does that mean? You think it's really cursed?

  You have a dead body, right?

  Yeah, so? Who's to say this guy didn't just whack his head and fall into the water?

  He could have. It could have totally been an accident. OR he could've been cursed.

  Charlie watched the screen. Waiting for any sign that he was responding. A few seconds later the word OK appeared. No questions asked. No arguing. They'd come a long way in the ten months they'd known each other.

  Charlie hung up the phone and entered the four-digit code signing her off for the day. She carefully removed her headset and hung it on the hook on her desk before tidying up her desk and logging out of her computer for the day. When she stood, she slung her purse across her body and waved goodbye to her cube mate Brian.

  She stepped out of the Belcom Credit Union call center building and breathed in the early evening air stretching her back and noticing the sky, streaks of pink and orange melding into purple. This was her favorite time of day when the world was cast in that milky haze of twilight. She headed to the employee parking lot that was separated from the highway by a thick growth of pine trees. She pulled her keys from her purse and as she got closer to her car she pressed the unlock button on her key fob. Her lights blinked, and the car made a loud chirping sound. The wind kicked up and something cold settled around her shoulders. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention and Charlie slowed her pace, suddenly aware that she was not alone. Only one thing in the world made her skin prickle this way. A ghost. Charlie glanced around, suspicious of every shadow, every flicker of light.

  She quickened her pace, in line with her heart, which beat like a thunderous drum in her ears. The hairs on her arms stood at attention, her whole body twitched as if someone had pressed a live wire to her skin. Whatever it was, wherever it was, she could feel it growing closer, watching her. The question was why. Spirits often sought her out. It was like once they were dead, her name got passed around. Find Charlie Payne -- she can help you. And she certainly didn't have a problem helping the dead, but she didn't like being watched.

  When she got to her car she opened the door and hopped inside, pressing the lock button immediately. Then she laughed at herself. There were no door locks that would keep the spirit out. It hadn't even occurred to her to spirit-proof her car. She would get on that when she got home. She put her key into the ignition and turned it. She began to adjust the rearview mirror. The sight of him sitting in her back seat made her breath catch in her throat. When she looked more carefully at his face she recognized him immediately. He was the man from the parking lot. The one looking for his stepdaughter.

  “Who are you?” Charlie asked.

  The spirit leered at her. “Oh, you know who I am.”

  “Do you know what's happened to you?”

  “Yeah,” he said flatly. His brown eyes darkened. “You killed me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It's your fault I'm dead. I figured you killed me, I guess that means I get to kill you. You stupid meddling witch.”

  Charlie had opened her mouth to protest but something clamped down on her throat, making it impossible to breathe. Her gaze met his as she clawed at her neck trying to fight off the invisible fingers squeezing the life out of her. The world began to swim and the weight on Charlie's neck and chest grew heavier. This is not how she wanted to die. There are so many things still left to do. The image of her son popped into her head. How would she ever see Evan ever fully grow into the man he was supposed to be without her? The next image was of Tom, which surprised her? Surely she was beyond oxygen-deprived to be thinking of Tom Sharon, a man who was not even a man but a reaper who cast a glamor to walk among the humans and cull the dead.

  She had forgiven him for a lie he'd told her and they'd started to rebuild their friendship over the past couple of months. Her heart suddenly ached and she wasn't sure if it was because her body was dying or because she would no longer get to see and talk to Tom. Her nails dug into the skin of her neck drawing blood but it didn't loosen the spirits crushing grip.

  “Pluh-please,” she managed to croak.

  Hot tears squeezed out of her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. “I have a son.” She didn't know how much longer she could last. “Please.”

  A sound burst into her consciousness. It wasn't a growl exactly. More of a vibration. It started inside her head growing louder and more fierce. Her head was thrust backwards into the headrest and then forward, knocking so hard into the steering wheel a great bloom of red sparks appeared in her vision. Darkness flooded over her and right before she sank into tarry unconsciousness she felt something icy cold whisper across the skin near her ear, “I'll be watching you.”

  Charlie stared at the speckled white ceiling tiles of the corridor as the orderly wheeled her down the hall back toward the ER. Her hand kept touching the brace supporting her neck. The doctor had ordered the CT scan because the EMT's had found her unconscious.

  No one seemed to believe her when she squeaked out that she was just fine. They'd done an X-ray on her neck and though it was bruised, nothing was broken. The doctors kept telling her to stop trying to talk. Finally, someone had given her a pad and pen and she had written -- I make my living talking. How long?

  The young handsome doctor with blue shadows beneath his eyes had only answered, “The more you try to talk the longer it will take.” So she laid still and said nothing more.

  “Okay Miss Payne,” the orderly said as he brought her back to the emergency room. He looked at the nursing station and a woman wearing scrubs and holding a phone to her ear directed him into one of the tiny rooms.

  “Here we are,” he said as he transferred her to the ER bed. “One of the nurses will be with you Stat.”

  Charlie started to write down a question but he disappeared into the chaos around them before she could finish it. There were bruises on her neck and a black and blue goose egg on her forehead. The doctors and nurses all believed she'd been attacked, choked in her car by a man hiding in the back. She heard two nurses whisper about what they thought happened to her. Charlie hated the idea of being a cautionary tale. A reminder to lock their doors and look over their shoulders in dark parking lots.

  The only thing that could have made the ER worse would be for the spirits roaming the hall to home in on her. Maybe it was not such bad thing that she couldn't talk. Then she could just pretend the spirits weren't there and they would give up and go away.

  A ruckus caught her attention, and a burly voice she recognized immediately carried across the emergency room. Her hear
t lightened. The cavalry had come to free her from this awful place.

  “You know I still have privileges at this hospital young lady,” the voice said. “Now why don't you get Dr. Handleman on the phone and tell him Jack Holloway needs some help down in the E.R.”

  Charlie couldn't help but smile.

  “Now where is my niece?”

  The nurse fumbled with her roster and then pointed.

  “Hey there darlin',” her uncle said poking his head into her tiny room. Jack Holloway stepped inside the room and immediately picked up her chart. An old habit, Charlie figured, from his days as a doctor.

  Charlie pointed to her throat had made a cutting gesture across her neck as she wrote down her hello on the pad the hospital had given her.

  “Am I going to live?” Charlie handed the pad to her uncle and he chuckled. Jen craned her neck and read over her father's elbow.

  “Oh my gosh. Of course you're going to live,” Jen said, pushing in front of her father. “Oh your poor neck. Are you in much pain?”

  Charlie shook her head no. Then wrote, “Only when I talk. Where's Evan?”

  “I know it'll be hard but you'll just have to keep quiet for a day or two,” Jack teased.

  Charlie made an exaggerated frown face.

  Jen rolled her eyes at her father. “Don't worry. I called Scott, told him what happened. He's gonna keep Evan with him until you're better.”

  Jack added, “You'll be right as rain in a couple of days and can pick him up then.”

  Charlie scribbled quickly on her notepad, “Is that your official diagnosis?”

  He smirked. “Of course.”

  “Hello, folks,” Deputy Billy Eisener stood in the doorway, with his gray felted hat in his hand. Jen and Jack both turned at the same time. Her uncle and cousin stepped back from her bedside.

  “Hey Jen. Hey Dr. Holloway. Hey Charlie.” Billy sidled up next to Charlie on the other side of the bed. “Looks like somebody did a number on you.”