Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) (27 page)

Kyle swore. “You can’t prove any of this. And even if it happened, no way can you prove my folks were involved in any way.”

“I’ll be able to prove you used Daisy’s bank card to make those withdrawals.” He held out his hand. “Your wallet?”

Kyle glanced around, probably weighing his options.

“Don’t do anything stupid Kyle. I’m going to be taking you in for questioning. You can either hand over your wallet to me now, or to one of the guys at the station, later.”

The muscles in Kyle’s jaw tightened. Without another word, he pulled out his wallet.

Wade took a quick look. Daisy’s bank card was in a paper sleeve, but it was there, all right.

Kyle’s eyes flashed with anger. “I should have known marrying Jamie was a mistake.”

Wade couldn’t agree with him more on that point. “We’re already in the process of gathering evidence. Soon I’ll have a warrant to search your home, too. We’re going to interview your mother and your father, and we’ll find out what happened, Kyle. You could save us all a lot of trouble if you just told us the truth. The whole truth.”

Kyle’s face convulsed then, from fear or anger, Wade couldn’t tell.

There was no point in saying anything else. It would be interesting talking to Kyle’s mother. If she’d known about this, the guilt was probably driving her mad. In fact, Daisy’s death and subsequent cover up was probably what had cracked Muriel and Jim’s forty-year-marriage. Only something this drastic could explain why Muriel—who had loved the twins so much—had moved away.

“You can’t prove any of this,” Kyle repeated. But he didn’t sound so sure of himself anymore. As he sagged down on one of the kitchen stools, his gaze drifted to the fridge, where photos and artwork of his kids were displayed. “Nothing you say or do now is going to bring back Daisy. Do you really have to do this? Have you thought about the damage it’ll do to my kids?”

Yeah. He had
. He only wished Kyle had done the same.

it was a huge relief
for Jamie to be sitting at the kitchen table with Stella and Amos and eating some of Stella’s homemade chicken soup. Dougal had filled them in on the situation, so they weren’t asking her a bunch of questions. They were just letting her be.

After about thirty minutes, Amos, who never was one for sitting still, said he was going out to the workshop for a bit.

“Want some pie, honey?” Stella asked when it was just two of them. “Tea. Or coffee?”

“Tea would be nice.”

Once it was made, Stella asked if she wanted to go lie down. “Maybe you feel like being alone?”

Jamie shook her head firmly. That was definitely the one thing she did not want. At least not yet. “I screwed up, Stella. I should have listened to Dougal. Marrying Kyle was a big mistake.”

Stella put her hand over Jamie’s. “I’m so sorry. When did things start to go sideways?”

“Little things at first. I thought we were going to be equal partners, but he started working later and later. Soon I was handling most of the stuff at home and with the kids. And then he manipulated me into quitting my job.”

“Did you actually leave Howard & Mason?”

Stella knew how much she loved working there, and what her ambitions were for the future. “I did. I’m just praying they’ll take me back.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“I hope so. I just feel like such a fool. The first time Kyle paid any attention to me at all was when I dropped by a yard sale he was having, not a week after his mother moved to Portland. He asked me out for coffee, and was in full pursuit right from the start. I figured he was finally seeing me as a grown woman, not as his friend’s little sister. But I think the truth was he needed someone to take his mother’s place. Up until then, his mother had cooked meals, run the house, taken care of the twins.”

“He could have hired a nanny for that.”

“Well, maybe he was attracted to me, as well. But I don’t believe he ever loved me. I don’t see how he could have loved Daisy, either. Maybe he just isn’t capable of caring about other people.” She frowned into her teacup. “Though, I must admit, he does seem to love his children. And his parents.”

“You want my advice?” Stella asked. “Don’t try to figure him out. Men like that aren’t worth the trouble. You’re free of him now, and that’s what matters.”

“What about the kids, though, Stella? Chester, and especially Cory, were just starting to trust me. And now I’m going to walk out on them?”

Stella sighed. “No. I’m not suggesting you do that. If Kyle is arrested and ends up in prison, someone’s going to have to look after them, aren’t they?”

* * *

Dougal held Charlotte until she fell asleep in his arms. Once he’d finished giving his statement at the Sheriff’s Office, Charlotte asked him to bring her home, and then she’d asked him not to leave. So he was staying.

This thing with the librarian had snuck up on him. He wasn’t sure how. And he sure as hell didn’t expect it to last. But who the hell knew. Maybe it would.

When Charlotte had been asleep for over half an hour, he slipped away from her, got dressed, and went out to her porch. The sound of the ocean was a comfort tonight, but he couldn’t help thinking that somewhere in this country—possibly in the very town of Twisted Cedars, Librarianmomma was plotting her next move.

Was she, right this moment, thinking of Dougal the way Dougal was thinking of her?

Maybe. From the tone of the emails it was clear this weirdo was trying to make a connection with him.

On that thought...in that moment...time seemed to halt.

There was another person in this world who had tried hard to establish a connection with him, only to fail time and time again. His father.

He’d written letters and emails when he was in prison, then again when he was released. Dougal had always refused to respond.

Was there any chance in hell that Librarianmomma and his father could be one and the same? When was his father born? Dougal remembered there had been five years between his mother and father’s birth years. Katie had been born in 1955. Which meant his Dad had been born in 1950—the same year as Shirley’s baby.

Rage began to boil in Dougal’s blood. Damn it, if this hunch of his was correct, he’d been manipulated like a warm ball of putty. But his father couldn’t have pulled this off alone. And suddenly Dougal was sure he knew who was helping him.

* * *

The light was on in Amos’s workshop when Dougal pulled up in the back alley. It was almost eleven o’clock at night. As he left his vehicle he could hear soft strains of country music—probably the same radio station Amos had listened to eighteen years ago. Through the window, Dougal could see the man he’d viewed as a father-surrogate sanding a wooden table.

He wondered if the reason Amos couldn’t sleep, was the same reason he was here right now. Avoiding the rain puddles on the old pavement, Dougal made his way to the side door, which he’d used so often as a child it was automatic to give the extra tug it took to open it.

The smell of the place was familiar, too, a combination of wood, paint and oil. Amos still kept a tidy shop. The shelves were crammed-full, but organized and the cement floor looked clean under the new layer of sawdust.

Dougal hadn’t knocked, and Amos was so startled he dropped his sander. His wide, frightened eyes settled down when he saw who it was.

Amos reached over to turn off the radio. “It’s late son. You here to check on your sister?”

He hadn’t been. But now he wondered. “Is she okay?”

“Seemed in shock to me. But she’ll be okay. I left her and Stella alone to talk but the lights went off about an hour ago. Guess they’ve gone to bed for the night.”

Dougal nodded. The anger he’d felt on the drive over here was dissipating now. It was hard to be mad at people you trusted to look after your little sister. Whatever they’d done, it had probably been with good intentions.

He perched on a stool he’d last used as a teenaged boy. “When I first came to town Stella asked me if I kept in touch with my father.”

Amos scratched the back of his head, nervously.

“I told her no. But stupidly, I didn’t think to ask the same question of her.” Dougal paused. “Or you.”

Amos looked away. He picked up the sander and put it carefully on one of the shelves. Then he got out the broom and swept up the sawdust.

All the while Dougal waited quietly. The longer the silence extended, the more certain he was that he’d been correct. How else had his father known his mother had cancer? It had to be the Wards.

And finally Amos admitted it. “It was a deal Stella and I made with Ed, back when you were just a tadpole. He came to us after Katie kicked him out. He didn’t know what to do. Said he loved your mother, but was afraid he might hurt her—or you, one day. We told him if he left you and Katie alone, we’d keep him updated on how you were doing.”

“Did you know he’s been baiting me with information on a series of murders committed in the seventies?”

Dougal could tell from Amos’s surprised expression that he hadn’t. The older man frowned. “He wanted us to relay anything you were talking about. But he didn’t say why. I had no idea he was the one who got you poking and prodding into the past like that.”

“Did he ever tell you about his past? About his folks? Where he’d grown up?”

“I knew he was adopted. And that his life was tough. But no details.”

So Amos didn’t realize Shirley had been Ed’s birth mother. Dougal’s gut told him he didn’t know about the murders, either. As far as they were concerned Ed’s only crime had been beating his second wife to death.

But there was one other death Amos had witnessed and refused to talk about. Shirley’s suicide. So there was something he was hiding about that, too.

And suddenly Dougal had a theory.

“The day you found Shirley’s body in the library basement—did you lift the cash from the library fundraiser?”

Dark red color flushed up from the older man’s neck. He stared at the floor like a guilty schoolboy. “I wanted to ask Stella to marry me, but I had nothing. I knew where Shirley kept the money, and the key was in her pocket. After I phoned for help, I took the key and helped myself.”

Dougal felt sick listening to the confession, disillusioned that this hardworking and kind man was capable of a crime of simple greed. “Did Stella know?”

“I never told her. Sometimes I wonder if she suspected. Maybe that’s why we were never able to have children. Because our marriage started off on stolen money like that.”

when Charlotte woke up
the next morning, Dougal was sleeping beside her. One moment she was smiling and reaching for him, the next she felt as if she’d been punched in the heart.

Daisy was dead.

While the morning sun teased its way into her bedroom window, Charlotte went over the events of the previous day, recalling Dougal striding into the library and demanding her to close early. Once they were alone, he told her what he’d uncovered in Aunt Shirley’s vegetable garden.

She supposed she’d been in shock. She refused to believe him. Then she’d insisted he take her there, to the librarian cottage, so she could see for herself.

By then half the staff from the Sheriff’s Office, as well as several paramedics, were on the scene. She’d been allowed a brief look at Daisy’s watch—to confirm Dougal’s identification, but not the remains. After that, she’d felt frantically upset and the paramedics had given her something to calm her down.

Later, Dougal had brought her here. He’d been so kind and gentle with her. Which made her wonder if there was more hope for this relationship than she’d thought.

She gazed at his face, relaxed and unguarded in sleep. Some would say he was too callous for a hero. Too rough around the edges.

But he had redeeming features. His unrelenting pursuit of the truth being the main one.

His eyes opened. He blinked, then touched her cheek softly, so very gently. “How are you doing?”

“I feel weird. When my parents died, the grief was all encompassing. But this is different. I’m very sad. But also, strangely relieved. Ever since she left, a part of me was always wondering where she was, whether she was okay, or hurting and in need of help.” She sighed. “Now I know. And at least her suffering wasn’t long.”

“I heard them talking. Sounds like she died instantly from a blow to the head.”

“Who do they think did it?”

“What do
you
think?”

She hesitated. “I’d say Kyle. But I’m surprised. I never liked him much. But I didn’t see him as a murderer.”

“The guy is a monster. Making cash withdrawals for all these years. Pretending that Daisy was still alive. Holding out hope to all those who loved her.”

“I wish we’d been closer. Maybe then, I would have been able to support her better after the twins were born. But no one in our family had even heard of post-partum psychosis before.”

“It’s hard not to have regrets. Maybe if I’d told Daisy Kyle was having sex with other women, she wouldn’t have made the mistake of marrying him.”

“I’m not so sure. We all have a way of seeing what we want to see. Especially when it comes to love.”

“Speaking of love...” Dougal paused to kiss her gently. “I was thinking of going back to New York and packing up my stuff. Making a permanent move. What do you think?”

She smiled and put her arms around him. “I’ll show you.”

* * *

The New York apartment smelled stale when Dougal arrived three days later. He taken a taxi straight from the airport and was looking forward to seeing his cat. He’d missed the persnickety feline.

He dropped off his duffel bag in his foyer before heading to 5C to get Borden.

He knew his cat would be annoyed.

Just wait until she found out he was moving her from a city apartment to a cottage in the Oregon forest.

He rapped on the door of 5C several times, but there was no response.

Dougal hadn’t called ahead to give the old guy any warning, but he hadn’t expected there to be a problem. Monty’s social calendar was normally pretty blank.

He tried a fourth knock, waited an extra minute, then went in search of the super.