Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) (17 page)

“Cross your fingers for me,” he’d said last night. “If this financing comes through, we’re almost guaranteed to make a pile of money.”

“We could go to the beach again,” Cory said. “But I think Chester wants to stay home and play video games.”

“Is that what he’s doing now?”

Cory nodded. Her hair was in desperate need of a good combing and her T-shirt was stained. Jamie suspected the kitchen would be messy as well.

Jamie quickly spooned down the rest of her cereal. “That was very nice, Cory. How about I get dressed so we can get started on the day?”

“I’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher.”

“You don’t need to do that, honey.”

Cory beamed at her, then left with the tray. Jamie wondered how long this super-pleasing phase was going to last. She hoped that soon Cory would be comfortable enough to just be herself.

Jamie spent ten minutes in the bathroom, then dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and went looking for the kids. She found them in the living room, where Cory was perched on her brother’s chair watching him play Xbox.

“Hey Chester. What game is that?”

“Madden NFL.” His eyes never left the screen.

“So you like football, do you?”

“My Dad was offered scholarships to play college football. He turned them down to work in the family business. When I’m older, I’m going to play football, too.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” She glanced out the window into the big back yard. “It’s a nice day. What do you say we go outside and toss a real football around for a while?”

“Do you know how?” Chester sounded skeptical.

“Sure. I have a perfect spiral. My brother taught me. Dougal used to play on the same high school team as your father.”

“I’ve got a football,” Chester said. “Can we play now?”

“Sure. Cory, are you in? It’s more fun with three.”

She looked thrilled to be included and nodded emphatically.

They slipped on sneakers then went out the back door. Jamie hadn’t thrown a football in years, but the technique came back naturally and her first spiral only wobbled a little.

“How do you do that?” Cory asked.

Though they were still small, both kids had good arms and a lot of stamina. An hour passed quickly with the three of them scrimmaging while Chester provided a running commentary of the action. Jamie had never heard him speak so much or with such animation.

Until, finally, Cory went for a catch and ended up nicking the ball with the end of her fingers. She yelped as the fingers were pushed back the wrong way. “Ow! I broke my finger!”

Jamie took a look. “Maybe just sprained. We should put some ice on it, though.”

“Can’t we keep playing without her?” Chester had run to capture the ball and now he held it in one hand using the grip Jamie had taught him.

“Later,” Jamie suggested. “It’s time we stopped for a snack, anyway. Should I make popcorn?”

“I’ll do it!” Cory forgot about her injury as she raced her brother inside.

Jamie lingered on the lawn. All morning her thoughts had been ping-ponging from Daisy’s diary, to the letter from her father she’d found in the trailer. Figuring the kids wouldn’t miss her for a few minutes, she dug her cell phone out of her pocket and called Wade.

“Jamie?” he said, as if he couldn’t believe it was her.

“I have a favor to ask. Do you think you could find out if my father is still in the State Penitentiary?”

“I don’t need to check, Jamie, I know. He’s out.”

Oh my God
. Dougal probably knew and he hadn’t told her. “Any chance you could find out his address, or a phone number?”

“He would be on parole. So maybe. But are you sure contacting him would be a good idea?”

She wasn’t. And she was pretty sure both her brother and her husband would have major reservations, too. But she also knew she would always regret it if she didn’t at least try to reach out to him.

“I found a letter he wrote to Mom before she died. It was a nice letter, Wade. He didn’t sound that bad...”

She could hear Wade sigh. “I guess I could put out a few feelers. But don’t get your hopes up.”

as far as Dougal was
concerned nothing could be sexier than this: a librarian wearing only her eyeglasses, her hair tousled from recently having sex, totally engrossed in one of his books.
A Murder in the Family
, to be precise.

The print-out had arrived in the mail while he’d been in Pendleton. His last chance to check over the manuscript before it went in for publication. He’d been glad to delegate the job to Charlotte.

He tried to hand her a cup of coffee—he’d just brewed a new pot—but she waved for him to put it on the bedside table.

“Is the book any good?”

“Hmmm.” She didn’t even look up for a second this time.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You have great tits by the way.”

Still no response.

He went back to the living room where they’d already packed two boxes of books and were working on the third. At least, they had been working until Charlotte spied the final line edit copy of his upcoming book sitting on his desk.

“May I read this?”

He’d been flattered by her interest. “On one condition.”

His condition had been that she let him take her back to bed. Sex with the librarian was remarkably good.
Everything
with the librarian was remarkably good. Talking, going for walks, sharing meals, even sleeping seemed nicer with her in his bed.

He pruned through the books on the last two shelves, finding another dozen titles to put in for the sale. He finished his coffee, cleaned up after their late breakfast of toast and eggs, then went back to the bedroom.

Charlotte was on her stomach now, still naked, legs bent at the knees so her feet dangled in the air. He felt a strange, light-headed emotion. Happiness?

He kissed her toes. “Finished, yet?”

“Oh, no....”

“I’m getting bored.”

“Go for a walk. It’s a nice day.”

“How would you know? You haven’t looked up once since you started reading.”

“You should take that as a compliment.”

“I’m beginning to think you only like me for my writing ability.”

Finally she put down the manuscript pages. She studied his face solemnly. “You must be kidding.”

“Well, yeah, I was.” He settled on the bed beside her, taking her into his arms. She smelled like coffee and sex and vanilla. “Why didn’t you want to marry Wade?”

He expected her to say she hadn’t loved him. Instead she said, “I’ll tell you if you tell me something first.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you go to your sister’s wedding?”

“Because I warned her not to marry that creep.”

“Yes, but why? What do you have against Kyle? You were friends when you were younger.”

“Yeah, well maybe I wasn’t such a great judge of character back then. Kyle was always a cheat. He cheated at school and he cheated on his girlfriends...including your sister Daisy.”

Charlotte tensed, but didn’t interrupt.

“He was also a mean bastard. Loved to pull pranks. And I always played along. He knew he could count on me to back him up. I’m ashamed, for the way I used to look up to him. Wade never did, you know. That guy always had his head screwed on straight.”

Dougal didn’t want to talk about this shit anymore. He hated thinking back on all the dumb stunts he and Kyle had pulled. At the very least, he should have told Daisy about the cheating. Daisy had been his friend, too.

“So now it’s your turn. Answer my question.”

Charlotte took off her glasses, looked him straight in the eyes. “I turned down Wade’s proposal because I know he’s in love with your sister.”

He hadn’t expected that. “Really?”

“When he moved back to Twisted Cedars after his father retired, he tried to ask her out. But either he was too subtle, or Jamie deliberately misinterpreted his motives. At any rate, although they spent a lot of time together, he still hadn’t managed to ask her on a formal date when Kyle suddenly started showing her interest.”

Dougal thought back to the comment he’d made the first time he’d seen Wade. He never would have said it if he’d known Wade had feelings for Jamie. Too bad the fool hadn’t acted on them before it was too late.

“What if Wade hadn’t been in love with my sister. Would you have said yes to his proposal then?”

She put a finger on her lips. “Only one question, remember?”

* * *

The phone call from Jamie had caught Wade off guard. He knew he should have refused her request. But saying no to Jamie wasn’t easy. Besides, he’d already agreed to do a similar favor for her brother, so what the hell.

He set aside the Sunday paper. Nice day for a stroll, he might as well head to the office since he needed the exercise and fresh air. Last night he’d put in a few too many hours, and more than a few too many beers, at the Linger Longer. He figured he was entitled. In the space of one week, he’d lost two women. Not that Jamie had ever been his.

Still.

Sitting at his desk, he felt useful, at least.
Look at the bright side, Wade
, he could imagine his mother saying.
You have a job, a home, a community of friends and neighbors
. This was all true, and he knew he should be grateful.

Wade fired up his computer to check the records. Then felt the back of his neck tingle when he saw an outstanding warrant for Edward Lachlan’s arrest. He’d skipped out on his parole shortly after his release, whereabouts currently unknown. Wade fired off a quick email to Jamie, advising her to let the matter drop here.

Next he searched the data base to find out when Shirley Hammond had died: April 7, 1976.

A damned long time ago. Hell, the records could have been destroyed by now. Shaking his head at himself, Wade descended to the storage room in the basement. The ACL in his knee—an old football injury—ached a little with each step. The rows of file cabinets in the record room seemed daunting at first glance. He didn’t come down here often. All he had to do was ask Marnie for a file and it was on his desk five minutes later.

She could be a nag, but she was efficient.

The records were organized by date. And, amazingly, they went back as far the seventies. Within ten minutes, he’d found the report his father had filed after finding Shirley Hammond’s body.

Wade had expected certain routine comments and an irrefutable conclusion, but the report turned out to be more interesting than that. He pulled out his notepad, jotted down the salient points before returning the file to the cabinets. Marnie would freak out if he didn’t.

He looked over his notes one more time, and then called his father.

“How’s it going, son?”

They chatted for a few minutes before Wade brought up the purpose of his call. “Dougal Lachlan’s back in town. He’s doing some research for a new book and he wants to know about Shirley Hammond’s death.”

The line went silent for a moment. “One of the saddest cases I ever worked on.”

“I know. What I was wondering Dad, is whether there was anything about the case that didn’t make it into your report?”

“Funny you ask that.”

He waited.

“A few weeks after Shirley’s death, the board realized that the library improvement fund—ten thousand dollars—had gone missing.”

“Really? That was a lot of money back then.”

“Sure was.” His father sighed. “Folks trusted her. They’d bring their donations straight to the library and she’d put the money in a cash box she kept locked in the bottom drawer of her desk. But after she died, we couldn’t find it.”

“Any theories on what happened to the money?”

“Well, most of us figured she must have spent it or lost it, somehow. We tried to keep it quiet for the sake of her reputation, and to spare the family.”

“Do you think that’s why she killed herself?”

“Must have been. A real shame, though. I know her brother would have gladly replaced the money if she’d only asked. He did it anyway after she was gone.”

* * *

As he made the turn to the Hammonds’ cabin off the Forestry Road, Wade was surprised to see Charlotte’s BMW parked behind Dougal’s car.

He recalled the awkward encounter he’d witnessed between the two of them yesterday. Was it possible they were disagreeing on rental terms? Maybe now that he’d moved in, Dougal wasn’t as happy with the cottage as he’d expected.

Wade slid out of his truck, feet landing firmly on a thick carpet of pine needles. Sure was quiet out here. He inhaled the woodsy scent. The aroma of coffee was in the air, too. Fried eggs and toast. His stomach growled.

Wade drove out this way now and then, to check on the place and make sure it hadn’t been vandalized. Luckily it seemed the local kids had never ventured this far for any of their parties. They mostly preferred the beach, just as he and his buddies had in their day.

The weathered A-frame had to be almost fifty years old, but it still looked solid. Before he could knock, the door opened. Dougal looked preoccupied. He brushed a hand through his hair, settling it down somewhat.

“Hey, Wade.”

Maybe he should have called first. Never occurred to him he might be interrupting something. “Mind if I come in?”

After a brief pause, Dougal stepped aside.

The scent of breakfast was stronger in here. Wade could feel his mouth watering...but then he saw Charlotte and his mouth went dry.

She was in jeans and a T-shirt, with the same disheveled look as Dougal. Now it was all too clear what he’d interrupted. It wasn’t breakfast nor was it writing and research.

“Hi, Wade,” she said, her voice quiet. She tucked her hair behind her ears, then looked uncertainly toward Dougal.

Wade didn’t anger easily, but Jesus Christ. So soon?

He thought back on the accidental meeting he’d witnessed between these two yesterday and realized this wasn’t the beginning. Something had already happened between them. He remembered how excited she’d been about Dougal showing up at the library. Naively, he’d assumed it was the challenging research that had her so pumped up.

“On second thought, this can wait for another time.” As he turned to leave, Charlotte rushed to the door.