Where One Goes(64)

Charlotte makes it up the stairs with the help of her father when George shouts, “Charlotte!” She turns and acknowledges him, her face puffy from crying. “I want to know if he got my last email.”

He’s testing her. He wants to see if she’s the real deal. “You’re a real dick for not asking her that first before freaking out on her,” I tell him, even though he can’t hear me. Charlotte’s gaze moves to mine, waiting for me to answer, eager for a chance to prove herself to him.

I glare at George but stop when I see the pain on his face. “Damn it,” I sigh. “He told me he missed me and said he couldn’t wait to have me come home.” She nods and repeats the words and everyone is silent as George stares back at her.

“I’m telling the truth, George. I can see him right now,” she whispers. “You’re both handsome, look a lot alike, but he’s a little bigger. He has amazing brown eyes, very soft, but yours are darker. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true.”

George doesn’t respond. A single tear falls down his cheek and after a moment, he turns and heads for his bike. And Charlotte sobs uncontrollably as we all watch him take off.





“Are you all right?” my father asks as he holds me tight. I can’t help the way I lash out at him.

“Do you care? Looks like he believed I’m a nut job, just like you wanted,” I cry.

My father’s arms drop from around me just as Beverly approaches and pulls me back in the living room. “I’m sorry about George’s reaction, dear. This is a little surprising to all of us,” she states softly.

“I believe you, Char,” Cameron pipes in as he thumbs through a Playboy. In a flash, Beverly snaps the magazine from his hands and smacks him upside the head with it. “Jesus, Ma,” Cameron laughs as he scratches his head.

“Ike McDermott, I can’t believe you had these,” she says, and my heart stills. She believes me. She believes he’s here. My eyes dart over to Ike and he smiles softly at me. “Is he here . . . right now, Charlotte?” Beverly asks, and when I meet her gaze, I see hope.

“He is,” I answer in a husky voice.

I spend the next two hours communicating Ike’s words to his family. By the end, we’re all crying again. My father left at some point, which I’m highly grateful for. Henry and Beverly hug me tightly, both thanking me a hundred times over.

“Will he crossover now?” Henry asks; his eyes shiny with fresh tears.

“Soon. If he thinks George is okay . . . then probably very soon.”





Ike decided to stay with George last night to make sure he was okay. If there was a problem, he promised to let me know so I could tell Sniper. We all agreed I needed to let George have some space. My father never came to see me off when I left the McDermotts’ house, and for that, I’m glad. I guess he knew I was a wreck, and pushing me wouldn’t earn him any points. So when there’s a knock at my door the next afternoon, I huff, just knowing it’s him. And even though my father is the last person in the world I want to see right now, when I open my door and see who it is, I wish it was my father.

“Detective,” I say, morosely. A tiny woman is standing next to him, and behind her, a short man with thin hair. I recognize them immediately. They’re Casey’s parents. I saw them the first night I met Casey at the restaurant in Vermont.

“Ahem.” Someone clears their throat and I see Henry is behind them. “Forgive the intrusion, Charlotte. But may we come in?”

I look down at my sweatpants and Axel’s old T-shirt, realizing I look like hell after crying all night, but I open the door, unsure of what else to do, and let them all in. Once we’re all inside my small room, Henry and I sit on the end of the bed while the Purcells take a seat at the two chairs at the small table by the door. Detective Andrews stands rigidly next to them.

“Do you know who these people are?” Henry asks, jutting his chin toward the Purcells.

“Casey Purcell’s parents,” I answer.

“They’ve been in town since they discovered Casey’s body,” Henry explains. “I told them and the detective here, you may know more.” Frantically, my gaze meets his, and I want to feel betrayed, but when I see the sadness in his eyes, I know he only wants to give these people peace like I gave to him and Beverly. “It’s the right thing to do,” he tells me.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and then fix my gaze on Mrs. Purcell. “I met Casey in Vermont. You were having dinner with her sister. She was there . . . you just couldn’t see her. But I could. I have the ability to speak with the dead . . . their souls, that is. They’re caught in limbo with unfinished matters.” The Purcells glance back and forth to one another, and it’s not hard to tell they’re not swallowing the pill I’m giving them.

“Mr. McDermott, you said she had more information. This is absurd,” Detective Andrews intervenes.

“Just wait, Detective Andrews,” Henry insists, holding a hand up to him, before looking back to me and nodding once, telling me to continue.

“She said you guys were falling apart and were all a mess. That you all needed to know she was dead so you could let go of the hope you were clinging on to. I drove here to Virginia because I had to see her body for myself before I could report it. I made an anonymous report. I can see you’re having a hard time believing what I’m telling you, and that’s exactly what I was afraid of.”