Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  “Current issues are on microfiche, but if you want to go back to the seventies, we’ll need to reference originals.” Charlotte caught the eye of the older woman, who was re-shelving books in a quiet, methodical manner.

  “Abigail, I’m going to show Dougal the archives in the basement. Keep an eye on things, okay?”

  “Of course.”

  Dougal followed Charlotte downstairs into the windowless basement. The space was well lit, painted a gleaming cream color and filled with rows of shelving units.

  “Smells like paint.”

  “Amos just finished building us some extra shelving units. We figured we might as well have the place painted at the same time.” She peered at the labels on one of the bookcases. “Just around this corner.”

  As he followed, he was suddenly reminded of his dream. The basement setting had been similar to this one, only darker. With sudden insight, it occurred to him that both Elva Mae and Mari could have been attacked from the rear while looking for reference materials, just as Charlotte was doing right now.

  Dougal clenched his hands, relaxed, and then balled them again. What had the murderer been thinking as he lured the helpless women to their deaths? Had he been excited? Angry? Calm and collected?

  “Here they are.” Charlotte indicated a shelving unit filled with back issues of the local paper. “Everything you need should be in this box.”

  She wouldn’t sound so cheerful if she knew what he’d just been thinking. Dougal forced a smile. He scared himself sometimes with his crazy thoughts. “Great.” As he grabbed the cardboard container, he noticed another set of boxes on the adjacent shelving unit. “Oregon Library Association,” he read. “What’s in there?”

  “Quarterly publications from our state library association. My Aunt was the president of the board for a number of years. Our collection of newsletters dates back to that time.”

  “Hm. Mind if I take a look through these, as well?”

  “Help yourself. But none of this reference material can leave the premises.”

  He nodded, grabbed a second box and followed Charlotte up the stairs. On the way he asked, “So how long have you and Wade been seeing each other?”

  She hesitated. “About six months.”

  “Is it serious?”

  She seemed surprised he would ask that. He was surprised, too.

  “I-I’m not sure.”

  He set the boxes on the table by his laptop. It was just past twelve. “Okay if I leave these here for an hour or so? I think it’s time I had a little talk with my sister.”

  chapter seven

  jamie stared at the Excel spreadsheet on her computer screen. Two years ago she’d graduated to her own office at Howard & Mason and she loved it. She always worked best when it was quiet, but this morning, even with her door closed, she couldn’t concentrate. Damn that brother of hers. She’d never been able to understand him. Mom said Dougal took after their father, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did, but Jamie wouldn’t know since she’d never met her dad. According to her Mom, he had left before she was born, before he even knew his wife was pregnant again. Even though everyone was always telling her she was better off without him, she couldn’t help wondering if things would have worked out differently if he’d known about her. Maybe he would have tried harder to reform. Somehow won her mother back, and been a better man.

  It would have made a big difference to have had a father. Not just for her, but especially for Dougal.

  She sighed. She needed to focus on her work, not stew about her personal life, but it was difficult. Besides worrying about Dougal—and trying to figure out why he was such an idiot—there was the wedding. Her mother had brought home discarded magazines from the homes she cleaned, and Jamie had mooned over the occasional Bride issues that came her way. She loved the pretty dresses, the flowers, the lovely place settings. Of course what really mattered was becoming Kyle’s wife. But planning this wedding had been a thrill.

  Tonight was the final fitting at Stella’s for her bridal gown and Cory’s flower girl dress. Then on Saturday, Stella and a few friends were taking her out on the town. Jamie grabbed her to-do list and added ‘phone florist’ to order a boutonniere for her brother. She also needed to let the caterer know they’d need an extra place setting for the dinner. Annoying to have to make these last minute adjustments. But even though she was currently pissed off with her brother, she was glad he’d be available to walk her down the aisle.

  Jamie tried again to concentrate on the trial balance in front of her. Instead, her mind drifted, this time to Kyle’s suggestion she quit her job. It had been sweet of him to make the offer, but she loved her work. Not only that, she was used to earning her own money and couldn’t imagine being dependent on someone else in that way.

  At noon, Jamie took the lunch she’d packed that morning, and decided to eat outside to enjoy the beautiful day. As she left her office, she waved at Bonny who was busy talking on the phone at the reception desk. Heading for the beach, she crossed the highway, then passed the Tourist Information Office. Several vehicles were parked in the lot today and she noted the different license plates as she walked by: Missouri, British Columbia, Washington.

  Inside the bureau a map of the world was mounted on the wall—visitors were encouraged to stick pins on their home states or countries. Jamie loved the idea that her small town could draw visitors from all over the world, from as far away as the Middle East, and Australia. But she had little urge to travel. This was her place, and she’d always known it.

  Jamie left the path, shoes now sinking into the dunes. The weather was perfect—she hoped it would hold until next weekend. So often spring and even summer days on the coast of Oregon were windy, cool and damp, but she still wouldn’t consider living anywhere else.

  She stepped over a clump of bull kelp to reach a large chunk of driftwood, molded by water and time into the perfect perch for sitting and enjoying the view. Once settled she scanned the ocean, on the look-out for gray whales, even though it was too early in the season. A cormorant swooped past her, heading for the sea stacks that rose majestically through the water to her left.

  “Jamie?”

  Dougal’s voice. Her spine stiffened. She didn’t turn around, just waited for him to get closer. A few seconds later, her brother joined her on the log, stretching out his long legs and planting his heels in the sand.

  He put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She let the apology sit between them for a while. It sounded good. And sincere. Finally, she sighed.

  “I wish to hell I could understand you, Dougal.”

  “I think you’re lucky you can’t.”

  Dougal always said the most cryptic things. She knew better than to ask him what he meant. He never explained himself. Still, she found herself returning to the one thing she could never quite forgive him for.

  “I can’t believe you’re here now when you wouldn’t come for Mom’s funeral.”

  She glanced at him, saw his jaw grow firm.

  “I wanted to remember her the way she was in Maui.”

  That had been Dougal’s reaction to the news that their mother was dying. He’d sent the two of them tickets to Hawaii, where he’d joined them for a week in a luxury condo in Kaanapoli. It had been a lovely escape from reality, but in the end, it was Jamie who had returned to Twisted Cedars to look after their mother in the final stages of her disease, Jamie who had dealt with the doctor’s appointments and the respite center, Jamie who had arranged the funeral and settled the estate.

  “Maybe I would have liked to remember her that way, too.”

  Dougal lowered his head. “I—You’re right. It wasn’t fair. I guess I owe you an apology for that, too.”

  It was never satisfying giving her brother a hard time. No one could be harder on him, than he was on himself. Jamie let out a long breath and gave him a closer look. He’d aged in the two years since she’d seen him last, and he was thinner
, too. She knew his lifestyle was crap. He never ate properly or got enough sleep. Chances were he was drinking too much, as well.

  “You look like shit.”

  That elicited a smile. “Gee, thanks, Sis.”

  “I guess I should thank you for at least showing up for my wedding. Though a little warning would have been nice.”

  “About your wedding...”

  Her back tensed again at the tone of his voice. She studied his face. Seeing his miserable expression, her heart grew heavy.

  “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? Marrying Kyle?”

  She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Seriously?”

  He didn’t flinch from her gaze. “Damn it, Dougal. My wedding is in one week. Of course I’m sure. Why would you even ask me something like that?”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this. But Kyle is not the great guy he seems to be.”

  “You have a lot of nerve.” Her half-eaten sandwich fell to the ground as she scrambled to her feet. Glaring down at her brother, she wondered when he would ever be there for her. Supportive. Helpful. Caring.

  The way a real brother ought to be.

  “And I thought you were here to walk me down the aisle.”

  He blinked. “I’m telling you, Kyle is not a man you can trust.”

  “You haven’t seen him in fourteen years and you think you know him better than I do?” Kyle was right. Her brother was insanely jealous. How else to explain this strange attack?

  “He doesn’t treat women well, Jamie. He used to cheat on Daisy all the time when we were in high school.”

  He was going way too far, now. “Don’t talk to me about Daisy. She is long gone from here. And you can’t possibly paint Kyle as the bad guy in that. Kyle was a saint with Daisy. She went totally crazy after the twins were born. Kyle did everything he could to help her. He cared for the kids, did all the cooking, took Daisy to a bunch of doctors and followed all of their advice. And in the end, what did she do? She left him. And her kids, too. Do you know that she never calls or writes? Her own kids, Dougal. She hasn’t seen Chester or Cory since they were toddlers.”

  “Maybe there’s more to that story than you know.”

  “Give me a break. You haven’t lived here. I have. Kyle is a terrific father and I love him.”

  Her brother let his hands drop. He looked defeated, suddenly.

  She had an urge to tell him not to worry, she was going to be fine. But she was still too angry with him for that. Just two days ago she had been happy. Blissfully, joyfully, innocently happy. And now, even though nothing had changed, nothing real anyway, she knew she wasn’t ever going to get back that feeling.

  * * *

  Charlotte sat at her desk while eating her chicken salad sandwich. She never went out for lunch, because they didn’t have enough staff. Twisted Cedars Library had been running on a shoe-string budget ever since its inception. Sometimes she dreamed about what she could do for the community if she only had more resources.

  But whenever she went to the board with her ideas, they were never able to see past the bottom line.

  Charlotte was partway through her sandwich, when thirteen-year-old Laila Gill came in with a backpack full of books. Laila never dropped her books into the return chute out on the street. She always delivered them personally to Charlotte, thanked her politely, and then asked for more.

  Laila was probably the library’s best customer. The girl reminded Charlotte of herself as a young teenager. Books had been her lifeline then, as she suspected they were for Laila.

  Charlotte put her hand on a stack she’d been collecting since Laila’s last visit. “I managed to find the next three in the series. Want to look at them?”

  “I’ll just take them all.” Laila pulled out her library card, which, despite being laminated, was tattered at the corners.

  Charlotte was helping Laila pile the books into her pack, when Dougal returned from his break. She wondered how his conversation with his sister had gone. Not well, judging by Dougal’s scowl.

  Charlotte slipped the hardcover of Smokescreen into Laila’s pack. “See you soon, honey. Say hi to your mom for me.”

  The words were for Laila, but her eyes were on Dougal. He brought a certain energy to the library. It was exciting having a real, published author doing his research here. Was it crazy of her to hope he might decide to move back home and do all his writing from Twisted Cedars? An author could live anywhere, after all. And she would find it so interesting to help him with his research.

  He gave her a nod before returning to the table where he’d left copies of the local paper and the library quarterlies.

  An hour later, she couldn’t resist asking him how things were going.

  “Well,” he said. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” She slipped into the chair next to his.

  “Tell me more about your Aunt Shirley.”

  This was the last subject she’d expected him to bring up. “What do you mean? About her involvement with the library?”

  “Everything. Her work life. Her personal life.” His dark eyes were intense as he leaned closer. “Let’s start with this—was she married?”

  “No. She lived with my parents for a while, and then moved to a little cottage off the Old Forestry Road. Maybe you’ve seen it. Wade calls it the Librarian Cottage. He checks on it from time to time. It’s about five miles from town. My father didn’t like her being so isolated, but she said it suited her.”

  “I do remember that place. We used to party there sometimes.”

  “So Daisy had a key? I always wondered if she had. I noticed one was missing when I was settling my parents’ affairs.”

  “Yeah. She and Kyle used to go there a lot, as well. Just the two of them.”

  “Oh.”

  “So that’s where your aunt lived? On her own?”

  “Yes. Until she...died.”

  “Do you know the circumstances of her death?”

  Last night her mind had gone to just this subject. She thought back to a family gathering when she was pre-school age. Her sister had invited her into her bedroom—a rare occurrence—then told her she was old enough to know the family secret.

  “What is it?” Charlotte had been beside herself with curiosity.

  “Aunt Shirley killed herself. But we aren’t supposed to tell anyone.”

  Not until she was much older, an adult, had Charlotte confirmed the facts with her mother. Not that her mother had been able to explain much. Apparently the suicide had come as a complete shock to the family.

  Charlotte couldn’t help but feel defensive. “Why all these questions about my aunt?”

  “Shirley Hammond was listed as a board member and president in the OLA Quarterly from 1972 until 1976. Suddenly in 1977 there was no mention of her. Most former board members get a special write up if they retire or pass away. Which made me wonder if there was something—unusual—about the way your aunt died.”

  “If you’re thinking my aunt was strangled like those other cases you’re investigating, I can assure you that was not the case.”

  Dougal looked at her steadily for a long time. Then he asked another question she wasn’t expecting. “What happened to your aunt’s cottage? Did your family sell it?”

  “No. We still own it.” Since her parents’ death, Charlotte managed all of the family’s assets, but she never thought of them as hers. Her parents had been quite wealthy and if—when—her sister returned, Charlotte would be all too happy to relinquish Daisy’s share of the inheritance. In the meantime, it was her responsibility to pay the property taxes for the cabin. Occasionally she drove by to reassure herself the building was still standing, but she never went inside.

  Too spooky.

  “Do you rent it out?”

  “We never have. Who would want it?” The little A-frame was small, not worth much, tucked so deep into the forest that it could hardly be seen from the road.

  Dougal leaned his elbows on her desk.
“Would you consider renting it out?”

  “I suppose. But it’s very isolated.”

  “Which makes it perfect for me. I’ve been thinking about staying in Twisted Cedars to continue my research.”

  It was what she’d hoped for earlier, but suddenly she wasn’t so sure. Dougal wasn’t just probing into a long forgotten mystery. He was digging into her family history, which was not comfortable territory, at all. “I’m not sure the cottage is even habitable.”

  “I’m not fussy. And it would be better than staying at the motel.”

  He had other options. Like the home where he’d grown up. After the wedding, Jamie would be moving in with Kyle and the trailer would be vacant.

  “I could show you the cottage after work. If you still want the place after you see it, I’d have to get the electricity turned back on. There’s a well and septic tank—not sure what shape they’ll be after all these years.”

  “I can get all that sorted out.”

  She frowned, trying to imagine what the place would look like inside after being vacant for so long. “We’ll also need to book a cleaner.”

  “Is Stella Ward still working?”

  “Yes. You remember her?”

  He paused a second then said, “She and my mother were partners.”

  “Of course.” Charlotte had forgotten Dougal’s mother had cleaned houses for a living. In fact, Kate Lachlan had cleaned for her parents, for decades.

  “How about we grab a bite after you’ve closed the library, then head out to the cottage to take a look around?”

  It was a casual suggestion, and Dougal knew she was seeing Wade. But Charlotte still felt a little excited, and a little guilty, as she accepted.

  chapter eight

  when Dougal and Jamie were kids, they spent a lot of time at Stella and Ward Amos’s house. Stella had been his mom’s partner and best friend, and the Amos’s were like family. Now, standing by their front door, Dougal was struck by how small the three-bedroom bungalow seemed. He knocked, and heard a shuffling sound from inside. After what seemed like a long time, Stella opened the door.