Her marriage had crash-and-burned in less than two months and she no longer had a home. She couldn’t keep staying with Stella and Amos. But where should she go? She wished she hadn’t sold the trailer. But the deal had gone through, the money was in her bank account and Liz Brooks was now living in the only home Jamie had ever known.
Maybe it was time she bought her own place. A real house with a foundation that couldn’t be moved. She had a good job, and a healthy down payment. One thing was for sure though—she wouldn’t use Quinpool Realty as her broker.
The ocean side windows of the restaurant were all open, and Jamie could feel the warm Pacific breeze dance over her face and down her arms. Summer was fleeting on the Pacific Coast and it was hard not to feel that she was missing out on this one.
In her alternative life, the one she’d thought she was going to have, she and Kyle would be just home from their honeymoon. They would have biked across the Golden Gate Bridge, gone hiking in the Muir Woods, and sipped wine at outdoor cafés in the Sonoma Valley.
The sound of an incoming text message pulled her out of her pity party. It was from Stella.
GRILLING PRAWNS FOR DINNER.
Oh crap, she’d forgotten to tell Stella her plans. SORRY STELLA. WON’T BE HOME UNTIL LATER.
WORKING LATE?
I WAS. NOW WAITING TO MEET KYLE.
GOOD IDEA?
It was started to feel less and less so. Jamie’s stomach was churning with nerves. The wine hadn’t helped. Maybe she should leave. Kyle could say everything he needed over the phone.
But then she saw him. Her husband—and he was still that, despite everything—was looking straight at her and walking this way. He was pale, maybe a few pounds thinner than the last time she saw him. But he was still handsome, in the way that blond men with blue eyes and great smiles often were.
And he was smiling now, though his eyes looked nervous.
“Good to see you, Jamie.”
She wished, oh how she wished, she could say the same. Instead, all she did was nod.
He stepped forward as if to hug her, but she glanced down at the table and after an awkward pause, he took the vacant chair. Not that long ago, his touch had thrilled her. But she couldn’t stand to think about that now.
“How are you doing?”
She sighed. “How do you think?”
“I know,” he said quickly. “It’s been awful. And I’m so sorry.”
Was he? She studied his eyes. She thought she could see remorse, but he’d fooled her before.
“I’m glad you agreed to meet. I need to explain what happened. I’m not a monster, Jamie.”
“I didn’t come for an explanation. It’s too late for that. We need to...start proceedings.”
He winced. “You’re sure?”
Had he really thought she might stay? She leaned forward, counting his infractions on her fingers. “You lied about Olivia retiring so I would quit my job and come work for you. You lied about your business trips and where your mother was living. And most of all you lied about Daisy—and what you did to her.”
“I never meant to hurt her. What happened that night—it’s become a blur. But I can tell you in all honesty that I meant her no harm.”
“What did happen that night?”
“I’d like to tell you. But my lawyer has advised me to keep quiet.”
“Even now you don’t think I deserve the truth?”
“Of course you do. I’m telling you what matters. That I never intended to hurt her.”
“So it just happened? She just fell and hit her head?”
Kyle sat there, neither denying nor confirming.
“If it was an accident, if you didn’t mean her harm, why didn’t you call 911?”
He took a deep breath. “I panicked. But I wasn’t trying to protect myself. I was thinking about the twins and what would happen to them if...” He closed his eyes briefly. Took a deep breath. “Yes, I was stupid. And disrespectful to Daisy. I’ve wished a thousand times that I could have a do-over for that night.”
“Easy for you to say now.”
“You know what Chester and Cory mean to me. I couldn’t stand for them to lose their mother and their father—both on the same night.”
The misery in his voice was reflected in his eyes. He’d made a lot of mistakes, and he seemed ready to admit that much, at least.
And she was also inclined to believe he hadn’t intended to hurt Daisy. She did believe he genuinely loved his children. But had he ever loved her?
The more she looked back on their relationship, the more she doubted that he had.
When his mother left his father and moved away, he’d needed a new caregiver and homemaker. That’s all she’d been to him. And that had to be why he’d tried to manipulate her into leaving her job.
The server came and they both ordered the grilled fish special.
A few minutes later, Jamie asked, “What’s going to happen?”
“My lawyer thinks they’re going to arrest me and charge me for manslaughter.”
She could see the fear in his eyes and hear it in his voice. “What will that mean?”
“Ten years in jail,” Kyle said bluntly. “If I’m convicted.”
As the server approached with their food, they fell quiet. When they were alone again, Kyle continued. “If it was only me, I wouldn’t care so much. I’m willing to do the time. Believe me, I feel horrible about what happened.”
Unshed tears glistened in his eyes. But were they genuine? Jamie broke off studying Kyle’s face and stared numbly at the drink and the food on the table. She couldn’t touch any of it. Part of her believed him. Part of her even sympathized with his dilemma.
But she couldn’t let him win her over. She had to harden her heart and remember Daisy, who hadn’t deserved to die.
And Charlotte, Daisy’s sister, who had been entitled to the truth, not live all these years with the futile hope that one day Daisy would come back to Twisted Cedars.
Never mind the poor twins.
“Were your parents in on the cover-up?”
Now Kyle’s gaze dropped to the table.
She supposed he was protecting them. Because if they’d known and had failed to report the crime to the authorities, they were guilty, too.
“Is this why your parents got divorced? Your mother wanted you to tell the truth. But you and your dad overruled her. She stayed until the guilt got to be too much. Then she left her marriage and moved to Portland.”
Kyle blinked, then took a deep breath. “Actually, Mom’s living in Sacramento, Jamie. I know it looks bad. But my parents both know I didn’t mean to harm Daisy. That’s all they cared about. If you could believe it, too, that would mean a lot to me.”
He put his hands on the table, palms upward, an invitation for her to touch him. But she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
“Getting together like this, wasn’t a good idea.”
“God, Jamie, you being so cold and distant is killing me. I’m the same guy you fell in love with.”
“That’s not true. I’m afraid you never were the guy I fell in love with.” She picked up her purse, intending to leave money for her share of the food, but Kyle waved her away.
“Don’t add insult to injury. I’ll pay.”
She stood, slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer soon.” She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. “Good luck, Kyle.”
chapter sixteen
stella,” Dougal said, “I need you to tell me about my father.”
Her face, so familiar to him in the way that anyone’s grandmother or aunt’s face is familiar, looked stricken.
Stella and her husband Amos weren’t blood relatives, but Dougal had grown up having Sunday dinners at their house. As long as he could remember his mother, sister and he had spent Christmas here, Thanksgiving, too. When he was in sixth grade, Amos had helped him build a tree house. Through the kitchen window, Dougal could see it standing still, in the old
oak at the back of the yard.
“You know all you need to about your old man.” Stella took a cloth and dried her hands. He’d caught her doing the dinner dishes. Just one plate—neither Amos nor his sister had come home for the meal.
Amos was working in his shop, Stella had said. And his sister, well, she’d agreed to meet with Kyle.
Dougal couldn’t believe it. When he’d found Daisy’s body buried behind the Librarian Cottage he’d felt one good thing might come from the tragedy, that Jamie would finally be done with the asshole she’d made the mistake of marrying.
Not too many people knew Kyle as well as Dougal did. They’d grown up together, hung out throughout high school, played football and partied together.
He knew the inner workings of Kyle Quinpool’s mind. And they were selfish, entitled and egotistical.
Maybe his sister was meeting him to iron out details of a separation. That was a hopeful thought.
Dougal stepped away from the window. There were still pictures of himself and Jamie, as kids, on Stella’s fridge. She and Amos hadn’t had children of their own, and they’d doted on him and his sister.
“Stella, I’d love nothing better than to forget Ed Lachlan ever existed. But he won’t let me. When I went back to the city to pack up my apartment, I found out he’d been my neighbor for half-a-year, under an assumed name.”
“What? You mean he moved there after he got out of prison?”
“Over the years he’s tried phoning me and emailing me and even writing me letters. I don’t know why he’s so damned determined to establish a connection between us. I’ve made it very clear I want nothing to do with him.”
“You didn’t recognize him?”
“Why would I? I was a little kid last time I saw him. Plus he’s old now. Looks about ten years older than he should.”
“So where is he now?”
“God only knows. He’s taken off again. I’ll bet he’s got a new identity as well.”
“Good. Maybe this time he’ll stay gone.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
If he could, he’d let Stella be. He knew she had a deep aversion to discussing Edward Lachlan—partly because she wanted to protect him and Jamie from the truth about their father. But also because she felt guilty that she and Amos had been the ones to introduce Edward to his mother.
“But given his track record, it isn’t likely. He’s going to be getting touch with me again, Stella. I just don’t know how he’ll do it this time.”
“You have to keep avoiding him.”
“The best way for me to protect myself—and Jamie—is to find out everything I can about him. Knowledge is what I need. I can’t afford to hide my head in the sand.”
After Liz had left the cottage that afternoon, Dougal had tried to settle down to write an outline for his new idea.
But the only stories in his head were those of the four librarians who had been murdered by his father.
Why had Ed Lachlan killed them? Was it just a way of seeking revenge on his birth mother for giving him up? If so, it was monstrous. And Dougal needed to understand what had made his father capable of such evilness.
Not so he could write a book the way his father wanted him to. But so he could put the ghosts to rest. And hopefully move on.
Stella sank into a kitchen chair, then glanced at her watch. “We don’t have much time. Liz is coming over in half an hour to go over our schedule for the next month. And your sister will be home soon as well.”
“We have enough time to make a start,” he insisted. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“God, Dougal, you always were a persistent little bugger.” She started rubbing her lower back and he felt guilty. She worked hard. She didn’t deserve to be interrogated like this.
But he had to know.
“It’s hot in here,” Stella opened the back screen door. “Let’s go out on the patio. Maybe you should bring a couple of beers.”
He found two cans in the fridge and brought them out. The sun was low and long shadows extended past the height of the shrubs and trees, shrouding the yard in darkness.
Stella took a long drink, then stared dully at the old oak. He suspected it was the past she was looking into—not the gnarled wood and weathered branches. As her expression grew duller and sadder, he knew he was right.
“We first met your father when he was working with Amos at the Golf and Country Club. Ed had been hired on to help Amos build the new clubhouse. One skill your father had was the ability to switch charm on and off like an electrical switch. And for some reason he decided he would befriend my Amos.”
Dougal had heard this part before. But he sat still and listened.
“One night, Amos decided to invite Ed home for dinner. And me, I figured I would round out the numbers and invite my new business partner, too. Your mother and I met at the Ocean View Motel, but neither of us were happy working there, so we decided to form a partnership and start our own cleaning company.”
Dougal decided it was time for a little re-direction. “What do you know about his past, Stella? Did he ever tell you where he was born? Or anything about his parents?”
“He said he moved here from Salem. He did mention the fact that he’d been adopted, and that they’d been cruel people. Amos saw the scars on his back once. So Ed wasn’t lying about that. When he was sixteen he ran away from those folks.”
Dougal pulled his notepad and pen from the back pocket of his jeans and scratched down the information. “Who were his adoptive parents? Did he mention their names?”
“God, I can’t remember Dougal. But they must have lived on a farm or at least an acreage. He mentioned once how there were no neighbors to see or hear what his adoptive parents were doing to him.”
An icy chill raced down Dougal’s back. “When did he move to Twisted Cedars?”
“He’d been around for a few years before he started working with Amos. Working with a roofing company, I believe.”
Dougal needed dates. “Mom married him in 1977 and I was born the same year. They were together six months before that, so they must have met in 1976.”
“That’s the year they built the clubhouse,” Stella agreed.
“So if you were to pick a year Edward moved to Twisted Cedars...?” There was a sound from the side of the house, a rustling, but Stella didn’t seem to notice.
“I’d guess your father must have moved here in 1972 or ‘73.”
“It was 1972. When I moved into the Librarian Cottage, Charlotte found an old letter addressed to her aunt from an adoption agency in Portland.”
Stella looked puzzled. “An adoption agency?”
“Yes. They were warning Shirley their offices had been broken into and some of their records stolen—including the adoption documents for her son.”
Stella sucked in a surprised breath. “Are you telling me Shirley Hammond was your father’s birth mother?”
“I’m almost positive. Here’s what I do know for sure. Shirley got pregnant when she was sixteen-years-old and gave the child up for adoption. I can’t prove that child was my father, but I’m pretty sure that Ed, at least, believed he was her son.”
Stella placed a hand on her heart, and at that moment, Liz Brooks appeared from the same side of the house as he’d heard the rustling sound earlier. Her dark, curly hair was loose, and she wore faded jean shorts, a T-shirt and plain rubber flip-flops on her tiny feet.
How long had she been there, standing in the shadows on the side of the house?
“Liz. You startled me, dear. I’ll get you a drink. Beer okay?”
When she nodded, Stella disappeared inside to get the drink.
Liz moved closer to Dougal. “You were talking about Edward Lachlan.”
“We were,” he agreed. “And you were listening.”
Liz fingered a pendant hanging at her throat. She had to be in her mid-twenties, but she looked so young in that moment, almost like a teenager.
“Here we go
.” Stella was back. She handed Liz the cool can and invited her to sit down. “Dougal will be leaving soon. Then we can discuss our business.”
“I’m sorry I interrupted your conversation.” Liz’s voice sounded strained. “I actually think I have something to contribute.”
“But we were talking about Dougal’s father, dear. You’ve never met him.”
“That’s true. But my father did.”
“Your father knew Edward Lachlan?”
“They met in prison. And Ed told my father lots of stories.” She nodded at Dougal. “Mostly about you.”
chapter seventeen
it was almost eight o’clock when Wade got home from Sacramento. He thought about parking himself in front of the TV for a few hours before he went to bed. Instead, he drove by the women’s emergency shelter, intending to make a quick check, for his own peace of mind.
When he arrived, he got out of his SUV, intending to check in with the night staff. On his way to the visitor’s entrance, however, he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. He turned toward the designated outdoor smoking area.
Birdie was sitting alone, a cigarette in her hands.
He approached her slowly, not wanting to alarm her. “You may not remember me—"
“I do. You’re the Sheriff.”
She was looking a lot better than the last time he’d seen her. A lot better.
“Yes. Name’s Wade MacKay. Mind if I join you for a few minutes?”
“Go ahead.”
He settled into one of the plastic chairs. Shrubs protected them from the main road to the east. A trellis screen blocked them off on the north and west, and the building was to the south. It was a private seating area designed to make women feel safe as they indulged in their smokes.
“How are you feeling?”
“A lot better. I even found a job. Today was my first day.”
“A job?” He sure hadn’t expected to hear that.
“I’m a hair stylist.”
forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) Page 10
