Dougal guessed he was the only insomniac of the group.
* * *
After dropping off his belongings in his room, Dougal took stock and realized he was hungry. He still hadn’t contacted his sister, but figured the encounter would go better if he had some food in his stomach. He was sure Jamie was going to berate him for not showing up for their mother’s funeral. And while he knew he deserved it, he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing Jamie’s disappointment and hurt face-to-face.
He’d have a few beers with his meal. Then he’d call Jamie.
It was a short walk to the Linger Longer, and Dougal grew hungrier with each step. But the moment he stepped in the door, heard the blaring nineties rock music, and saw the couple on the dance floor, he realized he should have ordered pizza to his room. His sister and her fiancé were here. His chest tightened at the glow on Jamie’s face. God, she looked happy.
They made a striking, if mismatched couple. Kyle, blond, tall and lean was a total contrast to his petite, curvy, dark-complexioned sister.
Jamie had grown her hair long since he’d last seen her, on the trip to Hawaii that he’d organized as a treat to their mother shortly after her diagnosis. The longer hair emphasized her resemblance to their mom.
And hit him hard.
It was so hard to believe she was really gone.
And now he finally understood why he’d put off this trip for so long. Because until he’d actually come here, he’d been able to pretend, in some weird way, that his mother hadn’t really died.
But she had.
And Dougal, the ever-disappointing son, hadn’t paid his last respects.
But then, he hadn’t been very respectful when she was living either. He remembered how ashamed he’d been when he’d seen her get all dolled up before heading out to the bar. Why couldn’t she be respectable and boring like his friends’ mothers? Why did she have to go out drinking and dancing, often not returning to the trailer until after dawn on Sunday morning?
“I work hard, Dougal,” his mother would tell him. “I think I deserve a little fun on the weekend.”
A little fun. Is that what you call sleeping around with all the men in town, Mom? He’d never actually said those words to her, but he was sure she had read the message in his eyes all too clearly.
Now he hated himself for being so bloody judgmental. His mother had been right. She’d deserved whatever fun she could find.
The music changed. The new song was soft and romantic. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kyle pull his sister in way too close.
He had to get out of here, before they saw him.
But just as he pivoted to leave, a young server stepped between him and the exit. She wore tight black jeans and an even tighter T-shirt with “Linger Longer” printed suggestively on her chest. She’d probably been in third grade when he’d left town.
So eyes off the merchandise buddy.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m not staying.” He’d almost made it to the door, almost executed a clean escape, when a voice came to him above the barroom din.
“What the hell? Dougal, is that you?”
He turned slowly, realizing that if he’d wanted to plan the worst possible reunion with his sister, this was it.
He attempted a smile. “Hey there, Sis. Surprised?”
She just looked at him with a familiar, wounded expression. “Damn it, Dougal. You can’t do this, you know. Just show up out of the blue…”
Tears began to form in her eyes, which was a bad sign. Some women grew soft and sentimental when they cried. Not his sister.
“Why didn’t you call? Tell us you were coming? And why in blazes were you creeping out the door...as if you didn’t want me to see you?”
He was damned now. Utterly damned. He didn’t know what to say.
The music was still playing, but other than that, the bar had gone completely quiet. Everyone was watching the Lachlan family reunion, including, he suddenly noticed, Charlotte and Wade.
Since anything he said would only make the situation worse, Dougal left.
chapter five
jamie couldn’t believe her brother had come to town without telling her. And that he’d turned his back on her at the bar. She’d been too hurt to run after him and Kyle had agreed it would be better to just let him go.
Presumably Dougal was here for her wedding...so why sneak into town without so much as an email or a phone call?
Jamie pushed off with her feet against the wooden porch floor, sending the two-seater swing flying. The wind was cold tonight, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t feel the chilly air, only the hurt, and yes—the anger.
Damn it, what was Dougal’s problem? He had such a chip on his shoulder and she had no idea what had put it there. Yes, they’d had a hard life when they were kids. Their mother had struggled, both with money and with men. But she had loved them, and done her best. She’d certainly deserved, at the minimum, to have her son show up for her funeral.
But Dougal—who was always quick to offer to fly them to New York for a visit, not seeming to understand, or care, how out of place they felt in that huge city—couldn’t lower himself to return to Twisted Cedars to see his mom put to rest.
“Honey?” Kyle came out the front door holding two mugs of coffee. “You okay?”
His thoughtfulness touched her. “Not really,” she said.
Kyle sank onto the seat next to her.
“I wonder where he’s staying.”
“Probably at the Ocean View,” Kyle guessed.
Jamie took a sip of her coffee. “I hope he behaves himself at our wedding.”
“I’m still kind of surprised he showed up. You know I’m not his favorite person.”
“I don’t get that. You used to be such close friends.”
“I guess.”
“So what happened? Did you guys have a falling out?”
“No. Not really.”
Kyle sounded uncomfortable. There was something he wasn’t telling her. “What is it?”
“Look, I don’t want to say anything against your brother. At one time we were friends. But as the years went by, he stopped acting like one. He resented my family’s money. He resented the football scholarships I was offered. And he especially resented the fact that Daisy preferred me over him.”
She wished she could believe her brother was a better man than that, but what Kyle said was ringing true. “I never knew my brother liked Daisy.”
“He’d hardly tell his little sister, would he?”
Poor Dougal. But unrequited love was no excuse for his behavior. Or for resenting Kyle, just because he had the things that Dougal wanted.
“Well, you may not be high on my brother’s list anymore, but you’re my favorite person.” She leaned toward the man she intended to marry, felt his arm settle heavily around her shoulders.
“You’re sure about that?”
He had to be teasing. One thing Kyle did not lack was self-confidence. Anyway, he’d have to be a fool not to realize the appeal he had to the opposite sex.
“One hundred percent sure.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, teasing him until he set down his coffee and gave her his full attention. The kiss, deep, warm, and thrilling, soon had her blood moving briskly through her body.
“Baby...how about climbing into bed with me?” Kyle’s voice was husky and low.
“I’d love to—” She shivered as his hands slid down her back, then to her hips. Her body wanted to respond, ached to let him hold her even tighter. “But you know I can’t.”
She had set a rule at the beginning of their relationship. His children were too young, and she did not feel comfortable spending the night at his house.
“Jamie...” He groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“Just one more week. Then I’ll be in your bed every night.”
It was a blissful prospect. Maybe she’d grown up as trailer trash, but, like the princess in all those stories
she’d loved as a child, she’d found her prince.
* * *
Wade and Charlotte left the Linger Longer after their third game of pool. Charlotte felt unusually tense. Wade hadn’t made any comment on the scene between Jamie and Dougal, but she knew it was on his mind, too.
“An interesting night.” Wade leaned over the threshold of her front door to turn on the interior hall light.
“Poor Jamie. Why do you suppose her brother didn’t call and let her know he was coming? And don’t you think it’s strange he dropped in at the library instead of going to see her, first?”
“You have to know Dougal. He seems careless, almost cruel sometimes with the things he does. The truth is, he tortures himself more than anyone else.”
Yes, Charlotte thought, thinking of Dougal’s eyes, how haunted they seemed. That fit. “Why is he like that? You can’t blame his upbringing. Look at Jamie. The woman is always smiling.”
Wade sighed. “Like everything in life...it’s complicated.” He kissed her. “You were quite the shark tonight. Next week, you’d better watch out. I plan on winning my twenty dollars back.”
She had to smile, not daring to say, Not if Jamie is in the bar, you won’t. The woman was bad for his concentration. “You go ahead and try, Wade.”
He kissed her again, deeper, sweeter, then pulled away. “I’ve got to go to court tomorrow.”
She nodded, understanding he would want a good night sleep. Yet tonight she had such a restless yearning, she almost invited him in, anyway.
But he said “Goodnight” before she could get out the words. Knowing he would wait until he heard the deadbolt slide into position, she twisted the knob, even though she had every intention of going out again once he was gone.
She often went for a walk along the beach before bed. Oddly, it was the one place she always felt safe, though she knew Wade would try to talk her out of the habit if he knew about it. She’d grown up in this house and their proximity to the beach made it almost seem like ‘hers’ too. When she was a little girl she’d spent a lot of time with her dad out there. He’d craved the peace and solitude as much as she had.
Her mother was a different story. Though loving and kind, she seemed to feel they weren’t making a connection unless they were talking.
And often, what they talked about was Daisy. It had bothered her mother so much that her daughters weren’t close. When Daisy refused to play with Charlotte or made cutting remarks to her little sister, Virginia Hammond would assure Charlotte that her sister loved her. She was just at a ‘difficult age.’
Unfortunately Daisy had stayed at that difficult stage for a long time. But Charlotte couldn’t help wondering, if she had stayed in Twisted Cedars, would they eventually have become close? She liked to believe so. Hopefully, one day, Daisy would come back and they’d have a chance at the sort of relationship their mother had wanted for them.
Charlotte pulled aside the curtain and watched as Wade backed out of the driveway. Once his tail lights had receded up the hill toward the town, she grabbed a light jacket and headed for the sandy path that led to the beach.
The tide was out leaving a broad expanse of rocky beach for her late night stroll. The half-moon in a clear sky provided plenty of light for her to pick her way around the larger rocks and pieces of driftwood.
To her left she could see the hall light shining from inside her house. Next to that, separated by a grove of trees, then a fence, was the motel. Only a few of the units had lights on at this late hour, including the one closest to her property. She wondered if one of those lights was Dougal’s. He didn’t strike her as the sort of person who went to bed early.
She wondered how he’d felt after the scene in the Linger Longer. He’d looked so miserable when he’d left, like a dog that had been kicked in the head. But really, it was his own fault. Dropping out of his sister’s life the way he had, then appearing without so much as a warning phone call.
What could he have been thinking?
Wade had described Dougal as a tortured soul. The description was a good one. Yet, she’d felt an odd connection with him today at the library. She’d felt complimented that he’d trusted her with the content of those emails.
She wondered if he would be back. First thing tomorrow morning she’d put through that request to the East Oregonian, just in case he was.
It was kind of fun, helping an author—a New York Times Bestselling Author no less—with his research. And what a story—four librarians murdered back in the 70’s. Had her Aunt Shirley been aware of the crimes?
If so, had she been afraid?
Did people who were contemplating suicide worry about their safety? Because that was how her aunt had died. She’d taken her own life. It had been in 1975, so only a few years after the two murders Dougal had told her about.
Charlotte felt a sudden chill at the possibility her aunt’s death could be connected to the cases Dougal was investigating. No. The timing had to be coincidence.
A hunk of gnarled driftwood distracted her. She picked up the piece, brushed away the sand. Turning it this way, then the other, she thought she saw potential. This would look nice in the flower beds lining the driveway. Yes, she would keep this one.
She straightened, the piece of wood still in her hand, then froze. A moment ago she’d been alone. But now, about fifty yards ahead of her, she could see a man’s silhouette.
She felt a shock of adrenaline, combined with a vague sense of fear. At this time of night she rarely encountered anyone on the beach. Local teenagers tended to congregate on the beaches to the north. And most tourists were fast asleep by now.
But here was someone, moving in her direction. He was tall and broad shouldered, and after a quick glance back at the motel, she realized he could be only one person.
At just the moment that her fear left her, Dougal spotted her, too. He stopped, hands hanging lightly by his sides. For a long moment they stood that way, neither one of them giving any overt sign of acknowledgement.
Charlotte was reminded of Wuthering Heights, of the unforgettable Heathcliff. So much anger and so much pain, it fairly radiated off the man. Guessing that Dougal—like her—had come out here to be alone, she turned back, hurrying across the sand to the relative comfort of her home.
chapter six
dougal had expected to have the beach to himself, but when he saw Charlotte Hammond, he wasn’t surprised. He’d already figured she might be a woman who enjoyed her solitude. When she turned away from him, he did the same.
He walked for another hour in the opposite direction, and by the time he let himself into his room he was exhausted. It had been a long day. The drive from Roseburg. The second email from Librarianmomma. The confrontation at the Linger Longer, which he’d left without getting any dinner.
Despite his fatigue, he couldn’t fall sleep for a very long time. And when he did, he dreamed of the woman in the second email, Mari Beamish. In his dream, he was there, as it happened. He saw the slip of silk slide around her neck, felt it tighten… heard her gasp.
Right before she lost consciousness, she managed to look over her shoulder, toward her attacker, and he was shocked to see Charlotte Hammond’s features, tight with fear and panic. Her wide gray eyes looked accusingly...at him. Because he was the attacker, the one with the scarf, the man who had murdered both women.
* * *
No!
Dougal jerked up from the lumpy motel-room pillow. He could tell by the quantity of light in his room that he’d slept late.
He refused to think about the nightmare that had awoken him. Refused to speculate on what it might mean. He had to see his sister as soon as possible and try to right what had gone so terribly wrong.
Jamie would already be at work at Howard & Mason. It had surprised him that his dreamy sister had gone for a career as a CPA. Her success there proved she had a strong logical side to her personality. He hoped to appeal to that today when he tried to talk her out of the wedding.
; He got up, brushed his teeth, and showered, but no amount of water could make his head stop pounding, or clear away the grit he could feel behind his eyes. As he dressed, he sipped at coffee he’d made in the machine provided in his unit, using the contents of a foil pouch that promised him a smooth Colombian roast, but fell short in the delivery.
It was quarter to ten when he finally grabbed his laptop case and left the motel. The sky was clear blue again today, but a mist hung over the shore. But God, the air tasted good. Thick and salty. He crossed the highway, passed by the Ranger Station, then turned onto Driftwood Lane without seeing a soul. He’d pass the time before Jamie’s lunch break by doing a little research.
Charlotte was sitting at the front desk of the library when he walked in. He inhaled the comforting aroma of old books. Felt the muscles in his shoulders and neck relax.
“Hi, Dougal. I’ve just received a long fax from the Pendleton Library. They’ve sent a copy of Mari Beamish’s obituary for you and the main articles that were published about her murder.”
Right down to business. No mention of seeing him on the beach last night. Nor about the scene at the Linger Longer yesterday. He appreciated her discretion.
“Thank you.”
She wore another gray skirt and matching sweater, both cut so conservatively, she could have time-travelled from the fifties. Did she downplay her looks on purpose?
He found a table in the back corner and settled in to read. A few people came and went. Besides Charlotte, there was another woman working at the library. Older, almost retirement age, he would guess. Not very friendly.
At eleven o’clock, Charlotte asked him how things were going.
“It’s been interesting. The facts, and the lack of success with the investigation, are disturbingly similar to Elva Mae’s homicide. But I was wondering if I could take a look at the archives for the Curry County Reporter? While I’m here I might as well dig into those—see if they mention anything about the murders.”
Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) Page 5