forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  Charlotte had stopped answering calls on both her home and cell phone. She’d also taken the week off work. So many people, with the kindest of intentions, no doubt, wanted to talk to her about Daisy.

  The problem was, Charlotte didn’t know much more than anyone else. She had nothing to say.

  But she had plenty of questions.

  “Charlotte. Sorry I kept you waiting.” Wade leaned over to kiss her cheek, before taking the empty seat at their table.

  “You aren’t late. I was early.” It wasn’t surprising she’d hadn’t noticed him come in. While it was only eight o’clock, already the pub was hot and noisy. Plus she’d chosen a table tucked in the corner, hoping it would be easier for them to talk.

  They could have met somewhere else, of course. But she was grateful he’d chosen the Linger Longer. It might be chaotic and a little uncomfortable. But it was familiar. She felt safe.

  Charlotte pushed the extra beer in front of him and was surprised when Wade downed half of it in a few seconds. “Tough day?”

  Up close his face was worn down, almost haggard with fatigue. There was a streak of something on his arm that looked like blood.

  “What happened?”

  Wade’s normally bright and observant light brown eyes were dull. He sighed and shook his head. “There was an accident.”

  Charlotte’s stomach muscles clenched as his words triggered a memory. Going to answer a knock at the front door in the darkest hour of the night. Seeing the Sheriff, who’d been Wade’s father at the time.

  She’d known what was coming, even as he placed a hand on her arm and gently suggested they go inside and sit down.

  There was an accident.

  Her parents had been killed in a car crash on their way home from the country club.

  Charlotte tightened her grip on her glass and took a deep breath. Across the table, Wade was contemplating his half-empty glass

  “Anyone we know?”

  “No.” Wade was quick to reassure her. “Sorry, I should have made that clear from the start.”

  He was a good man. She was glad there was no residual awkwardness between them. Or at least very little. The reason for that was the same reason she’d refused his proposal.

  She wasn’t the woman Wade really wanted. His proposal on Jamie Lachlan’s wedding day made that quite clear. But while she’d refused him because she knew she was his second choice, her new affair with Dougal made her realize it had been the right decision for her, as well.

  “It was a commercial truck, a single-vehicle accident,” Wade said. “I was driving back from a fishing trip around noon, on Bear Camp Road, and came upon the scene not long after it happened. The driver crashed down the embankment and overturned his truck.”

  “It’s a bad road.” Several infamous tragedies had occurred on Bear Camp Road, one horrifically involving a family on vacation who had been trying to get to the Interstate via what seemed, according to their GPS, to be a shorter route. An early winter snowstorm had stranded them on a side road, and the father perished when he struck out on foot looking for help.

  “The driver was dead,” Wade continued, “And he had a passenger, a woman. She was unconscious when I found her and still hadn’t come to when the ambulance drove off with her.”

  “The driver’s wife?”

  “No. Looked about your age, which makes her young enough to be the driver’s daughter. But she wasn’t that, either. We’ve spoken to the driver’s wife—she lives in Klamath Falls—and they have no children.”

  “So, who was she?”

  “No idea. She wasn’t carrying ID.”

  “Not even a purse? Or a phone?” Charlotte couldn’t fathom walking to the corner market without hers.

  “Nope.” Wade was clearly troubled by this.

  “Did the driver’s wife have any ideas?”

  “We asked, of course. Had her husband made plans to give someone a life? Was he in the habit of picking up hitchhikers? She said no to both questions. As far as she knew her husband was traveling his route alone, like usual.”

  Charlotte could tell from Wade’s expression that he hoped for the wife’s sake there hadn’t been anything sordid about the woman’s presence in the truck.

  “Besides,” he continued, “The woman didn’t look like someone who would be hitching a ride. She had diamond studs in her ears. Nails done up nice. Clean clothes—maybe a little wrinkled, is all.”

  Charlotte fingered the studs in her own ears, a present she’d been given by her parents when she graduated college. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Too soon to tell. She’s at the Medical Clinic in Brookings. Last I checked, she was still unconscious.” Wade took another swallow of his beer.

  His hand was shaking.

  This wasn’t like Wade. But then, like her, he’d been through a lot the past week.

  “We’re checking missing person reports in both Oregon and California, too. No matches so far. Hopefully she’ll regain consciousness soon and give us the answers we need.”

  He hesitated. “If she makes it, that is.”

  “Well. I hope she’s okay.”

  “Yeah.” Wade’s voice trailed off, then he sighed. “But this isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Charlotte’s shoulder muscles tightened. She leveled her gaze down at the table. “How did my sister die? Did she suffer?”

  “I don’t think so. Her head injury was sufficient to knock her out. Whether it was the cause of death we don’t know conclusively. I’m expecting more from the medical examiner next week. The final autopsy will be about four weeks after that.”

  Wade put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte. I can imagine what a shock this has been for you.”

  “It’s surreal. A part of me feels like I always knew Daisy was dead, and it’s good to finally have closure. But another part of me isn’t ready to let go of the hope that I might see her again.”

  Charlotte rubbed her finger in a circle on the table, tracing the condensation from her glass. “I always figured she’d come back to Twisted Cedars to see her children, if not me.”

  “At least you know she never made the choice to leave. Is that any comfort?”

  “In a way. But it’s pretty cold comfort when you consider I’ll never see her again. We weren’t close as kids. Now we’ll never have a chance to be close as adults.”

  Wade said nothing to that. What could he say? Wade wasn’t the sort of man to talk, when there wasn’t any point. Charlotte had always appreciated that about him.

  She appreciated many other things about Wade, too. He was loyal, honorable and kind. The sort of man she knew her parents would have been happy for her to settle down with. She wondered if one day she’d regret turning down his proposal.

  “It had to be Kyle who did this, right?”

  “He’s a strong suspect. First, he was the last person to see Daisy before she supposedly left town. He’s also the only one we know who had a grievance against her. We know from her lawyer that she’d been fighting him for partial custody of their kids.”

  “Could it have been a stranger, Wade? Someone just passing through town, maybe?”

  “Hard to understand how a stranger would have been able to bury her body at a cottage only a local from Twisted Cedars would know how to find. Plus, why would Kyle have used her bank card to make it seem she was living in Sacramento, if he didn’t have something to hide?”

  “That’s the most damning thing of all, isn’t it?” Years ago her father had set up a joint-account for his daughters. A fund they could dip into if they ever got into a jam.

  Ever since Daisy disappeared, monthly withdrawals had been made from random ATMs in Sacramento. While he was alive, their father had kept transferring funds to the account. After his death, Charlotte had continued to do so as well.

  Perhaps they’d been foolish to see the withdrawals as proof Daisy was alive.

  Maybe if they’d been more assertive with the bank, tr
ied more investigators than the two they’d hired—one when Daisy disappeared, another after their parents’ deaths—Kyle’s ruse would have been discovered earlier.

  “I just wish it could be someone other than Kyle. Not that I’m a fan of the guy. But I hate the idea of my niece and nephew losing both parents. And from all accounts—including Jamie—Kyle is a good father.”

  “I hear you. We’ll have more to go on in a week or two. We’ve sent some evidence to the lab for testing—hair and fibers found on the tarp that was wrapped around her body. Also blood traces we found on a corner wall in Kyle’s kitchen, under a couple layers of paint.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Blood traces in the kitchen?”

  “Evidence suggests she was moved after she died.”

  “Supposing Kyle wanted to kill her. Why would he do it in his kitchen?”

  “We can’t assume he intended to commit murder. Perhaps they’d been arguing—they did that a lot, by all accounts. Maybe the fight got physical. A hard shove against the sharp corner of the wall could have been all it took.”

  Charlotte could feel tears coming, and she swallowed hard. “It’s some comfort to think Daisy’s death might have been an accident. But if it was why wouldn’t’ Kyle call 911? Why did he bury her out in the forest—leaving his children, and all the rest of us to worry and wonder what had happened to her?

  “It’s unconscionable,” Wade agreed. He finished his beer, then nodded at her almost empty glass. “Want another?”

  “I better go home.” Her head had started to ache. Plus she had a feeling Dougal might be returning from his trip today. He’d said he was only going away for a week and it had already been eight days.

  She hated to admit how much she longed to see him.

  Because counting on Dougal was never a smart move.

  chapter three

  dougal Lachlan stood in long term parking at the Portland Airport and tried to remember where he’d parked his SUV. Holding a duffel bag in one hand, and a pet carrier with his cat Borden in the other, he needed a third hand to get out his keys.

  It was seven in the evening and raining. He’d just spent ten hours flying from New York City to Portland, with a connection in Chicago, and he still had a five and half hour drive to Twisted Cedars.

  Home. Strange to be calling it that again after all these years.

  But then, a lot was strange these days.

  Most notably, finding a buried body in the former garden at Librarian Cottage.

  And then that body belonging to Charlotte’s sister Daisy.

  He was worried about Charlotte. She hadn’t answered any of his calls while he was away. Maybe she was pissed at him for taking off so soon after finding Daisy’s body. But he had his demons, too.

  And he’d had to get his cat.

  Borden let out a yowl of displeasure from inside her carrier.

  “I hear you.” He set down the carrier to get his keys. When he hit the “unlock” button on the fob, lights flashed on a vehicle halfway down the next row, accompanied by a quick beep. There it was.

  He tossed his luggage in the trunk, then set up a makeshift litter box behind the driver’s seat. On the other floor mat, he put a bowl of water and an open tin of tuna.

  It had been a long, confusing day for Borden and she howled at him when he let her out. She ignored the food, sniffed the water, but wouldn’t drink it. She did make use of the litter, though.

  When he offered her a greenie treat, she wouldn’t deign to even look at it.

  “Don’t think I’m joining you in this stupid hunger strike of yours.”

  He put her back in the carrier and secured it with the seat belt. Fifteen minutes later he was in the drive-through line for a burger and a soda, after which he filled the tank, and tried phoning Charlotte again.

  No answer. Again. Hell, what was going on?

  The July days were long, which worked in his favor. He didn’t lose the sunlight until he finished the mountain traverse to the coastal highway. Then he had only a few more hours to go. Moonlight was playing on the ocean waves when he finally reached town limits, shortly after midnight. Despite his longing for his new forest home, he drove past the exit to the Librarian Cottage and headed instead to the Hammond’s beautiful beach home, where Charlotte lived alone.

  The house was much too big for one person. He suspected Charlotte had hung onto it, after her parents’ deaths, in the hopes that one day her sister would return. The two story clapboard would have had plenty of space for Charlotte and Daisy, as well as Daisy’s two children.

  But that was not to be.

  A pale light shone from the main floor, suggesting not only was Charlotte still awake, but she hadn’t even gone up to her room, yet. Dougal scooped Borden from her carrier. “I want you to make a good first impression, okay? So be friendly.”

  He jogged up the steps and followed the wraparound porch to the kitchen door, which he tapped on lightly, before trying the door. Unlocked, as usual. For a woman plagued with numerous irrational fears and anxieties, Charlotte was surprisingly casual about practical matters of safety.

  “Charlotte? It’s me. Are you up?” The familiar smell of her house made him feel like he was truly home. In his arms, Borden was wiggling so much, he had to set her free. But as soon as the feline’s paws landed on the unfamiliar tile floor, she froze.

  “Yeah, it’s another strange place. But I promise, you’ll like this one.”

  “Dougal?”

  He heard Charlotte’s sleepy voice a second before she rounded the corner. She was wearing a long T-shirt, her shapely legs and feet bare. The blanket she usually kept on the sofa was wrapped around her shoulders.

  Clearly he’d awakened her. “I’m sorry. I saw the light and assumed you’d be up.”

  “Dougal.” She dropped the blanket and ran into his arms.

  He hugged her close and for a few seconds couldn’t speak. It was such a relief to see she was okay with him. To feel her body next to his, warm and welcoming.

  Gently he brushed his hand over her head, smoothing her hair. “I’m not used to worrying about people. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?”

  “It’s been a rough week. So many people were phoning with condolences and everyone wanted details of what happened. I couldn’t deal. So I turned off my phone.”

  “I called the library. They said you weren’t at work, either?” He leaned back to study her face and his heart ached at the sorrow he saw in her eyes.

  He’d felt the same when his mother died a year ago. But he’d been too stupid to admit his grief, instead had tried—and failed—to carry on living as if nothing had changed.

  “I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate at work. Plus I couldn’t face the people there, either.” Charlotte eased out of his arms. “Was that Borden I saw a minute ago?”

  Dougal took a quick look around the room. “She must be exploring your place. I hope that’s okay. I’d better go get her litter box and her food and water bowls.”

  “I’ll pour us a drink while you do that.”

  He could hear amusement in her voice. Up to now, she hadn’t seen much of his nurturing side. But hey. If you owned a pet, you had to look after it.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, all three of them were cuddled on the sofa, Charlotte and Dougal on the cushions, Borden perched on the back. The old cat was cautious, but she’d allowed Charlotte to scratch her behind the ears and under her red leather collar. Charlotte decided they were going to get along just fine.

  “Revisiting Jane Austen, are you?” Dougal was looking at the stack of novels on her coffee table.

  “My go-to books in times of stress,” she confessed. She’d started with Emma and was now a quarter way through Sense and Sensibility. “Austen is so comforting. As her Emma says, If things are going untowardly one month, they are sure to mend the next.”

  “Pretty quote. I prefer scotch myself.”

  “Well, I did have a beer tonight, as well. I met
Wade at the Linger Longer earlier this evening.”

  “Rekindling the old flame?”

  She checked his expression. When she saw he was teasing, she mock-punched his arm. “No. He was bringing me up to date on the investigation in Daisy’s death. Yesterday I handed over the banking records from our joint account. They’re going to see if they can match all the withdrawals to Kyle’s so-called business trips.”

  “Sooner they arrest that guy, the happier I’ll be.”

  “It would be nice to have some closure before I plan the memorial service for Daisy.”

  Dougal brushed his hand down the side of her cheek. His touch gave her delicious shivers, making her feel cared-for and aroused, all at the same time.

  “Do you regret letting me rent the Librarian Cottage? If I hadn’t dug up the old garden, Daisy’s body would probably never have been discovered, and you could have at least had hope.”

  “But if Kyle did this, he ought to pay. Besides, what good is false hope? The truth is better, even if it’s painful to face. Think about Chester and Cory. It’s awful that their mother is dead. But at least they know she didn’t desert them.”

  “Yeah. I’m glad for my sister’s sake, too. When I warned Jamie not to marry Kyle, I had no idea he’d done anything this evil. I just thought he was a jerk.”

  “I’m still having trouble believing he did this. Maybe I could picture him accidently getting too rough with her. But burying her out in the forest? Rather than taking responsibility for his actions?”

  “Kyle has always been a master at getting away with things. At school he was rich, good-looking, and the best athlete on the football team. Did he take advantage of that? He sure as hell did.”

  “But think of what will happen if he goes to prison. Chester and Cory will practically be orphans.”

  “Yeah. It’ll be tough on the kids all right.”

  Charlotte sank her head against his chest. “This is depressing. Tell me about New York. Were you able to sublet your apartment?”