Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1)

by C. J. Carmichael

  The letter she’d found in her aunt’s book was in her purse to show Dougal. But her aunt’s secret baby was the last thing on her mind as she turned onto the deserted forestry road.

  Instead, she was thinking about how isolated this place was. What a great place for mysteries...and secret affairs. Not that her relationship with Dougal was a secret. But it wasn’t exactly out-in-the-open, either. Maybe she should be the one to suggest they go out for dinner sometime.

  Though some conventional and old-fashioned part of her balked at that idea.

  When she arrived at the cottage, she parked next to Dougal’s SUV. Dougal must have heard her drive up, because he had the door open before she reached the stairs.

  “You’re an angel.” He took the bags from her hands, then waited for her to precede him into the cottage.

  “Nice to see you have some manners, at least.”

  He was in jeans, bare feet and a black T-shirt. Unusual for him was the fact that he was also freshly shaven. “Okay. That’s the second dig tonight.”

  “And it may not be the last.”

  She watched him empty the bags. When he pulled out the French loaf, he inhaled with appreciation. “Did I say angel? I meant goddess.”

  At least he was supplying the wine. An open bottle and two full glasses were on the counter. She helped herself to one and took a sip.

  “So how was your trip?” she asked.

  “As expected.” He took a sip from his glass, then gave her a light kiss on the lips.

  She pulled away before he could take the kiss further. “So maybe now you can tell me what the hell is going on. The last time I saw you, I thought you’d decided that you were no good for me.”

  “That’s still true. But unfortunately I’m a selfish bastard. I missed you while I was gone. And when I got back—I had to see you.”

  That was all it took. God, she was so easy. He slipped the wine glass out of her hand and then he was kissing her for real, stripping off her clothes, leading her to the bedroom.

  When they were done, the propane tank was empty, so no barbecued steaks. Charlotte didn’t care.

  * * *

  When Charlotte awakened on Saturday morning, it was to the sound of songbirds. The sky was pink outside the open window, and Dougal was sleeping on his stomach, his face turned in her direction. She resisted the urge to kiss him. A thought was nagging at her. She’d forgotten something important.

  Dougal opened his eyes.

  She wondered if he’d expected her to sneak out during the night. But he seemed pleased to see her. He shifted to his side and put his arm around her waist.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Good.”

  He nuzzled closer. Kissed her neck.

  “Very good.” She could see where this was going, but just then she remembered her aunt’s letter. “Oh my God.”

  “You’re getting your lines wrong,” Dougal murmured, as his hands roamed down her back. “That usually comes at the end.”

  She wiggled out of his arms. “I just remembered something important. I meant to show you last night...before you distracted me.”

  Dougal propped himself up in the bed, frowning. “Can’t it wait another hour?”

  “I might forget again.” She pulled on the T-shirt Dougal had discarded last night, then went downstairs to retrieve her purse. Before she could climb back to the bedroom, Dougal had joined her, dressed only in his jeans.

  Charlotte pulled out the letter. “I found this in one of Aunt Shirley’s books we donated for the fundraiser.”

  Dougal glanced at the return address on the envelope. “What’s this about?”

  “Read it.”

  When he was done, he let out a low whistle. “So your aunt Shirley had a baby out of wedlock, as they used to say in the day, and gave it up for adoption. This was scandalous stuff in the seventies.”

  “Yes, based on those dates, she must have been only sixteen when she had the baby. And, if it was her records that were the target of that theft, she was contacted by that same child twenty-two years later.”

  Dougal checked the date of the letter again. “Just four months before the first murder. This could be pivotal.”

  “I know.” Charlotte waited for Dougal to say more, to somehow make sense out of the tangle of murders and clues they’d uncovered so far. But he surprised her by going to the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. “You want to make breakfast?”

  “I don’t think well without food and caffeine. And we skipped dinner last night, remember?”

  Charlotte made toast from the French loaf she’d bought yesterday, while Dougal fried up the steak with some eggs. They ate at the table, not talking, each lost in their own thoughts. Halfway through his meal, Dougal’s eyes brightened and he set down his fork.

  “It has to be Librarianmomma.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The person sending me those emails was the baby your Aunt Shirley gave up for adoption. I had in mind that the email sender was a “momma.” But maybe he or she used that moniker because they had a librarian for a mother.”

  Charlotte took a moment to think about it. “That actually makes a lot of sense. So, if the baby was born in 1950 and it’s 2010 now, then he or she would be sixty.”

  “Yes.” Dougal brought out the three emails so they could read them again.

  You don’t know me. But you should. I’ve got a story that will be the best of your career. Back in the seventies four women were killed. Librarians. No one ever solved the cases. But I know what happened. Ever hear of Elva Mae Ayer? She was the first. Check it out then let me know if you want the names of the others. I am here and willing to help.

  The next year Mari Beamish was murdered. There was a pattern, but don’t feel bad if you don’t see it yet. The cops never did make the connection. Those were different times, before computers and all the advances in forensics. Now you get to be the hero who pieces it all together. You can thank me later.

  You’ll want to check into Bernice Gilberg from Corvallis and Isabel Fraser from Medford next. That’s the complete list. I’ll leave it your hands now. You already know about Shirley so you should be able to figure out the rest. If you can’t, I’ll be waiting to hear from you.

  Charlotte read them twice, then focused on the third one. “Look at this. Librarianmomma says you already know about Shirley. How could that be?”

  Dougal glanced out in the distance, rubbed his chin. “My guess is that Librarianmomma is someone close to hand. Someone who is keeping track of our progress with this case.”

  Charlotte was inclined to agree. It felt like a major breakthrough until she realized the list of sixty-year-olds in Twisted Cedars would be quite a lot of people to check out. Plus, they still didn’t know if this Shirley’s child had been a witness to the homicides—or the killer.

  chapter twenty-eight

  jamie spent her weekend washing clothes, buying last minute items, and checking off the detailed packing list provided by Wolf Creek Summer Camp. Cory and Chester would be spending the next two weeks riding horses, swimming, canoeing, singing around campfires and playing games. They would sleep in bunkhouses and eat their meals at the camp kitchen.

  Jamie had read the brochure, studied the website, and thought Wolf Creek Camp sounded terrific. She’d never had an opportunity like this when she was growing up.

  But nine was rather young to be leaving home and family for two weeks. And she could tell both Cory and Chester were nervous.

  On Saturday night they both asked to talk to her.

  “You’ll still be living here when we get back?” Cory had asked.

  “Of course. You can’t get rid of your evil stepmother that easily.”

  Cory giggled.

  “You’re going to have a lot of fun. And we’ll be in touch. Phone calls aren’t allowed, but, I’ll write letters. And you’ll always have Chester to talk to if you’re feeling homesick.”

  In Chester’s room, she found the
young boy fussing over his ant farm—something new he’d started a few weeks ago.

  “I’ll look after them,” she promised. “And you keep an eye on your sister, okay?”

  “I bet the horses are going to be really big,” he said as he hunkered under his covers.

  “Maybe. But they must be pretty gentle if they trust them with children.” With Chester it was always best to appeal to his logical side. “A camp like that wouldn’t be able to afford liability insurance if children were getting injured on their horses.”

  “Oh. Good point.”

  He sounded so grown up. Yet looked so cute and young with his big eyes peeking out from the covers.

  “Your dad and I will write you every week,” she promised. “Sleep tight, honey.”

  * * *

  Dropping the kids off on Sunday afternoon was more difficult than Jamie expected. Cory was clingy right to the end, and though they walked through the premises with her, met the counselors, introduced her to her bunkmates, nothing seemed to make her comfortable.

  All the other parents had left, and games were starting, when she finally agreed that they could go. She had tears in her eyes as they drove away, though.

  And so did Jamie.

  “You have a soft heart.” Kyle patted her hand gently, leaving one hand on the steering wheel as he negotiated the rutted country road.

  “They’re so young.”

  “Next year they won’t have to go to camp if they don’t want to. Because you’ll be home.”

  Yes. That was true. She wished now that she’d made the decision to quit her job earlier so the twins didn’t have to go through this. But then, what about the honeymoon? Her and Kyle’s relationship was the bedrock for this family. And she and her new husband desperately needed time together.

  They’d been married less than a month and already secrets were building up between them. She still hadn’t asked him about that box of Daisy’s. He must have moved it because he was afraid she’d go snooping again. Which she had tried to do. But why hadn’t he said something? Of course, she was no better. She still hadn’t told Kyle she was contemplating finding her father.

  “Have you given any thought to booking our trip to San Francisco?” she asked.

  “On Tuesday I need to go to Coos Bay to close a condo deal. Should take two or three days, at most. How about we leave on Friday? We can stay in the city a few nights, then maybe tour Napa Valley.”

  “Sounds perfect.” She would talk to him about her father, and ask about Daisy, too. No more secrets.

  * * *

  That Monday Jamie worked out a transition schedule with Ben Mason where she would spend alternate days finishing her files for them, and working at Kyle’s office. She felt like a traitor, leaving the accounting firm which had been so good to her. Not to mention letting go of her dream of being the first female partner invited to the firm. But she had made a decision and a promise to Kyle and she was going to keep it.

  On Tuesday, after saying goodbye to Kyle, Jamie went for her first day of work at Quinpool Realty. She hesitated before pushing through the glass front door. She’d been here on other occasions, to meet Kyle for lunch, and once to sign the contract when she’d first put the trailer up for sale. But this was different.

  This was a new phase in her life. Her position here might be a lowly bookkeeper, but Kyle kept encouraging her to think of the arrangement as a partnership. “It’s a family business, and you’re part of my family now.” She prayed that it would work out for the best, and then forced herself to step inside.

  The office was quiet. The front desk—once Olivia’s and now hers—was empty. Olivia had left the surface bare of all but the phone and the computer. Behind the desk was a bank of file cabinets. At either end were two doors. The one to the right led to Kyle’s office.

  The one to the left was Jim’s, and even as she glanced at it, the door opened and her father-in-law emerged.

  “Jamie. I’m so glad you’ve decided to come work with us. Quinpool Realty has always been a family business, and you’re family now.”

  Her chest muscles tightened. She didn’t know why she felt as if she’d just joined the mafia. Jim was a perfectly nice man. Kyle and the twins adored him and he was a well-respected local businessman.

  “Thanks Jim. If you don’t mind, I’ll just putter around today and get a feel for the way Olivia did things. Since I’ve done your taxes and helped Olivia with the occasional transaction, I’m sure I’ll have everything figured out soon.”

  “Of course you will. Olivia wasn’t the brightest bulb, but she was well organized and usually reliable...before she decided out-of-the-blue to retire, that is.” Jim handed her a mug, with the company name in blue letters. “Here, now that you’re part of the team you should have one of these. Coffee is over there,” he nodded to the kitchen in the back. “I just made a fresh pot.”

  “Thanks Jim.” Coffee seemed like the perfect place to start.

  * * *

  A couple of hours, and three cups of coffee later, Jamie was beginning to have a good handle on things. She’d also fielded several calls, discovering that part of her new duties included being the unofficial receptionist.

  She was printing out the latest trial balance when she noticed something had been left in the printer tray—it was a conformation for a hotel booking for Kyle’s business trip. She almost threw it into recycling—since he was gone, he obviously didn’t need it—when the word “Sacramento” popped out at her.

  Hadn’t Kyle said he was going to Coos Bay?

  She checked more closely—maybe this was for a different trip, something of Jim’s?

  But no, the dates were for tonight and the next night, and the hotel was in Sacramento.

  Maybe there’d been a change of plans and Kyle had forgotten to tell her. She went back to the computer and opened the Travel Expense Account. The entries here were of no help, as the only back-up provided was reference numbers. Knowing that for income tax purposes the numbers had to lead to a physical file with actual invoices, Jamie scoured the cabinets for a travel expense file. There was nothing. The files were probably in Kyle’s office.

  At four, Jim left to meet with a client. Jamie got up from her desk. She’d noticed Jim lock his office, then drop the key into a decorative pot on a high shelf next to the front door. She fought with her conscience for a bit, but she knew she’d never sleep tonight if she didn’t at least try. Sure enough, there were two keys in the pot and one of them fit Kyle’s office door.

  She’d been in Kyle’s office before, but never alone. The walls were covered with framed certificates, and scenic shots of Twisted Cedars and the Oregon Coastline. On his desk were his kids’ school pictures, as well a framed copy of their “Save the Date” cards. Which reminded her, their wedding photos would be ready soon.

  The thought was almost her undoing.

  She’d been so rosy-eyed and optimistic when she’d married Kyle. But a lot had changed since then. Unexpected shifts, like the way Kyle had slowly ceded his household and childcare responsibilities to her. And bigger issues, like the way he’d hidden Daisy’s journal. And lied about his business trip.

  It didn’t take long to find the file where Kyle kept his travel expense receipts. All the times he’d told her he was going to Coos Bay—every single time—he’d gone to Sacramento, instead.

  A wave of hurt swept over her, bringing her to her knees. Tears filled her eyes, but she brushed them away. She had to think. Daisy was in Sacramento, too. Maybe Kyle was secretly looking for her, for the sake of his children?

  But if that was the case, why wouldn’t he trust her enough to tell her?

  * * *

  At five in the morning Jamie woke up with the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, her body damp with sweat. She’d dreamed of Daisy. The woman had been standing over her bed, staring down at her. The vision had been so real, so rich in detail. She could have sworn she’d actually smelled Daisy’s signature perfume.

 
; Kyle had phoned her last night. She’d let it go to messages.

  She wasn’t ready to talk to him.

  She now knew for sure that what she and Kyle were going through was not just the growing pains of a new marriage. It was something much bigger. There was too much Kyle was keeping secret. He had to be up to something.

  Dougal had warned her.

  But she hadn’t listened, because she didn’t want to believe him. She’d desperately longed for the inside Kyle to match the outside one: golden and handsome and good. Not a lying manipulator.

  Or was she being too hard on him? Maybe if she gave him a chance to explain...

  Jamie tossed from one position to the next. She’d pledged to love and honor this man. Not only that, but she’d made a promise to his children. They were counting on her, too.

  But how much could she be expected to give? Not only was she handling most of the childcare now, she’d actually given up the job she’d loved for Kyle.

  An ugly suspicion had her bolting upright in her bed. Was it possible Kyle had manipulated her on that front as well? Had his accountant really chosen early retirement—or been forced to take it? In the morning, she would call Olivia and double-check. And if she caught Kyle in another lie, she wouldn’t give him any more chances.

  * * *

  Finding Olivia Argent wasn’t easy. She didn’t answer her home phone or her cell, and when Jamie drove over to her house a neighbor informed her that Olivia and her husband had taken off in their trailer for a camping trip. Jamie called at least a dozen campgrounds before the manager at the Little Redwood Campground in the Siskiyou National Forest confirmed she had the Argent’s booked in her registry.

  Jamie loaded up her car with provisions for a long drive—take-out coffee, bottle of water, and snacks. She turned off her cell phone—which she’d neglected to power up the previous night—and slipped a Prairie Oyster CD into the player.