Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1)

by C. J. Carmichael

  He’d seen enough and was about to drive off, when his sister appeared at the door. She put her hands on her hips in a posture that reminded him achingly of their mother.

  “Are you going to come in, or what?”

  He hesitated, then forced himself out of the car.

  Though Jamie had resented his departure from Twisted Cedars, his mother had never complained about the choices he made. If she had a mean side to her, Dougal had never seen it. As a teenager, he hadn’t been easy on her. He’d been a minor delinquent, sullen and uncooperative. Not a nice person to be around.

  Yet, she’d always treated him kindly.

  “He’ll come around,” he’d heard her tell Stella on the phone, after he’d been expelled from school for drinking beer at a school dance.

  He wondered how much longer it would take.

  “Jamie, what happened after Mom’s funeral? Is she...buried somewhere?”

  The skin between Jamie’s eyes pinched with pain. “Dougal. No. We rented a boat and sprinkled her ashes on the Rogue River. It was what she asked for.”

  “Right.” He remembered Jamie telling him this, in that long ago phone call when she’d let him know their mother had succumbed to the cancer.

  “Have you changed your mind about Kyle and me, Doug? Is that what you came to tell me?”

  He could see how much she wanted him to say yes. To give her his blessing. Coming here had been a mistake. If only she hadn’t been home.

  “I don’t know what to say. He’s a cheat, Jamie. He used to copy my papers at school.” Always his. Never Wade’s. Wade wouldn’t have stood for it. But Dougal had been so damn anxious to be liked by the coolest guy in the school.

  She frowned. Shook her head. “That’s kid stuff. I don’t get why you’re so hard on him.”

  “This thing works both ways. I bet he tried to talk you out of inviting me to the wedding, didn’t he?”

  Her silence was his answer.

  “So I think it’s better for everyone if I don’t go.”

  His sister stuck out her jaw, a sure sign she was fighting tears. “You didn’t come here for me at all, did you? I hear you’ve rented the Librarian Cottage and you’re working on a new book.”

  “That part’s true. But—” He stopped. Jamie wanted his blessing, and if he couldn’t give her that, she wasn’t interested in anything else he had to say. “Good luck, Jamie. I hope I’m wrong about Kyle. I really do.”

  * * *

  Driving up to Shirley Hammond’s old cottage, Dougal felt the same sense of anticipation as starting a new book. For some strange reason, this place spoke to him. Strange, when up to now he’d done all his writing in the city. But as soon as he’d seen this place last night with Charlotte, he’d felt a sense of coming home.

  The irony did not escape him. He’d spent his adult years running from his past, and now the Oregon forest was claiming him back.

  The silence, the majestic height of the trees, the tang of the sap and the cushion of pine needles under his feet. This was where he belonged.

  And the old Hammond cottage was perfect. Built from cedar, the A-frame was simple, functional and more beautiful than the most opulent of Park Avenue penthouses—to his taste anyway.

  Even as he dug the brass key from his jeans pocket, he heard another car approaching from the lane. A woman, who had to be Liz Brooks, drove up in a battered green Jeep. She sat for a minute, studying him, then the house. Then she squared her shoulders and jumped from the driver’s seat, her sneakered feet landing with a soft scuff on the dirt driveway.

  “Hey there. You must be Dougal.”

  Liz was about five-foot-four, skinny in a pair of jeans that seemed to hang from her hip bones. Her T-shirt was so faded he couldn’t read the logo, and she had a huge quantity of brown, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  Her eyes narrowed in a calculating way.

  “Better not be any dead animals in there. Stella tells me this place has been vacant for a mighty long time.”

  “No dead animals. We checked last night.” He held out his hand, introduced himself.

  Liz’s palms were calloused and her hand slid out from his a second after he’d touched it.

  “Are you from Twisted?” he asked. She seemed only a little younger than Jamie, but he didn’t find her familiar at all.

  “No. I moved here a few years ago. Saw the job listed on the Internet.”

  That struck him as odd. There were dozens of towns like Twisted Cedars along the coast of Oregon. And surely cleaning jobs weren’t that hard to come by.

  She narrowed her eyes again. It seemed to be a habit of hers, and he wished she wouldn’t do it. It made her seem far more perceptive than she probably was.

  “You don’t look much like your mother,” she finally pronounced.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  She stared at him a second longer. In her odd, slanted gray eyes he saw mistrust—as if his lack of resemblance to Katie was a strike against him.

  Then, abruptly, she seemed to lose all interest in him.

  “My gear is in the car.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “No. I’ve got it.”

  Fine. He headed into the cottage, leaving the door open behind him. Last night he hadn’t noticed how stale it smelled in here, but this morning the air was thick enough to choke on. No wonder Charlotte had been sneezing. He opened all the windows on the main level, and then made his way upstairs.

  He wished Charlotte hadn’t removed the picture of her aunt from the bureau. That red scarf. He wondered if he would find it among Shirley’s clothing.

  He went through the bureau drawers, in search. Mingled in with the underwear drawer—staid, no-nonsense briefs and well-constructed bras—he found a couple of silk scarves, but none of them were red.

  “You want me to clean those out for you?”

  He hadn’t heard Liz climb up the stairs and he started at the sound of her voice. Worried she’d think checking out women’s underwear gave him a perverse thrill, he slammed the drawer closed.

  “That’s okay. Charlotte said she would come by later to box this stuff up.”

  She kept looking at him, as if to ask, Then what were you looking for, anyway?

  He would have been hard pressed to give her an answer.

  chapter twelve

  kyle’s mother arrived in Twisted Cedars at five o’clock in the afternoon on Friday. Jamie was French-braiding Cory’s hair. She was almost done, weaving the strands the way she remembered her mother once doing for her. Cory held a mirror in both hands, watching the progress with an expression bordering on awe.

  “Do you like it?”

  Cory nodded.

  Then suddenly Jamie saw Muriel Quinpool’s face in the mirror. Cory spotted her grandmother at the same time.

  “Grandma!” She jumped from her chair and ran to the woman, hugging her around the waist. Muriel looked teary-eyed by the reception. She patted Cory on the back, while her gaze met Jamie’s.

  “Muriel! What a surprise...hello, how are you?” She went to give her mother-in-law-to-be a kiss. She hadn’t expected her to arrive tonight since Kyle had said she definitely wasn’t attending the rehearsal dinner.

  Muriel clasped her granddaughter’s face between her hands. “How are you, sweetie? Excited about the wedding?”

  “I’m going to be the flower girl! I have a long pink dress and shiny shoes and I’m going to the hair dresser tomorrow.”

  “Then why was Jamie braiding your hair?”

  “For the rehearsal dinner,” Jamie explained.

  “It’s tonight? I thought Kyle said Thursday.” Muriel sank onto a kitchen chair, looking concerned.

  Jamie hadn’t seen Kyle’s mother since she’d moved to Portland. Muriel had aged noticeably in that time and she had a nervous tic in her eye that was very distracting.

  “Now you can come with us, grandma! I’ll go tell Chester.” Cory shot out of the room, leaving an uncomfortable quiet in her wake.r />
  Jamie sat in the chair opposite Muriel’s. Her mother-in-law-to-be was rubbing one wrist in a compulsive manner.

  “I can’t go. It isn’t possible,” she murmured. “The wedding is going to be difficult enough.” She lifted her gaze to Jamie. “Where is Kyle?”

  “He’s helping Chester get dressed.”

  “Chester’s been dressing himself for years.”

  Jamie grinned. “His father doesn’t want him wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt tonight.”

  Jamie had taken the day off from work. She’d been too excited to work, anyway. The day had sped by as she worked through a checklist of items, including picking up the kids after school and bringing them home to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.

  Cory had been thrilled at the excuse to wear another pretty dress, but Chester wasn’t impressed with the shirt and trousers he’d found pressed and waiting on his bed.

  “But I have to wear that stupid suit tomorrow. Can’t I be comfortable tonight?”

  Jamie might have given in to him on this one—only close friends and family were invited and the clambake was being held at the beach—but Kyle was standing firm.

  “Are you sure you won’t come with us?” she pressed Muriel. “I know the kids and Kyle would love for you to be there.”

  “I’ll stay at home. Maybe I can make myself useful.” With that, Muriel moved to the sink and began running the hot water.

  Though the place wasn’t yet her responsibility, Jamie felt embarrassed. The kitchen was frankly a disaster—remnants of breakfast and lunch were still cluttered on the counters. Jamie had planned on a quick clean-up once she’d finished with Cory’s hair.

  “Sorry the place is such a mess.”

  “No problem. I like to be useful.” She sighed. “I’ve missed all this.”

  Then why had she moved so far away, Jamie wondered? “Are you settling in okay in Portland?”

  “I’m fine. I have my sister.”

  But she missed having her grandchildren around. That much was obvious. And again Jamie had to wonder why she had felt compelled to put so many miles between them.

  * * *

  The rehearsal dinner didn’t last long—only a few hours. Jamie wanted an early night and she was glad of it the next morning—her wedding day!—when she woke at dawn, with the birds. She stared at the low ceiling of the trailer above her. This is the last time.

  From now on, she’d be waking up in Kyle’s house, in his bed, with him lying beside her. She turned her head to one side and tried to imagine him cuddled up beside her.

  She smiled.

  So much to do today. She was glad she’d awakened early. Quickly she showered, ate breakfast, and then organized her trousseau. She and Cory would be dressing at Stella’s home. Stella had a beautiful old claw-foot tub and Jamie was looking forward to a nice, long soak before getting dressed.

  But she had a lot to accomplish before then.

  Phone calls, last minute arrangements, a trip to the salon.

  On the way to Twisted Locks, she stopped at Kyle’s house to pick up Cory, who had an appointment booked for the same time. Muriel was outside watering the shrubs when she arrived.

  “Hey, Muriel. Isn’t it a wonderful day!”

  The older woman straightened, frowned up at the sky. “So far, so good.”

  “I booked an extra appointment if you’d like to come with us to get your hair done?”

  “Oh no. I couldn’t.”

  Jamie frowned and was about to try to persuade her when Cory came bounding down the porch stairs. Kyle followed, with a garment bag in one hand and a duffel bag in the other.

  Jamie had no time for silly superstitions like avoiding her groom on their wedding day. She ran up to kiss him.

  “Hey, beautiful. I have something for you.” He set Cory’s bags in the trunk of her car, then took her hands and led her around the back of the house. Cory stayed behind with her grandmother, grinning, obviously in on the plan.

  In the backyard, shielded behind a cedar hedge, Kyle kissed her again, then took a blue box from his back pocket. Holding her breath, she opened it…and let out a gasp when she saw the diamond necklace.

  “It’s stunning.”

  He placed it around her neck, fastened the clasp. “You’ll wear it today?”

  She had planned to wear an old necklace of her mother’s. It was vintage and lovely, but not nearly as valuable as this. “Of course, I will.”

  “I love you, Jamie.”

  “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  At ten minutes past four, Jamie was in the Church vestibule with Cory, missing her mother and trying not to cry.

  Not until this moment had she realized she’d been counting on Dougal to pull through in the end. A tap sounded on the door and Stella Ward walked in, dressed in her best floral dress. “Are you ready?”

  Jamie nodded. In the absence of her brother, she’d asked Stella to walk her down the aisle. “Dougal still hasn’t shown up?”

  “Afraid not, honey.” Stella used a cotton handkerchief to dab away Jamie’s tears. “Your mother was my best friend. I know you must be thinking of her today. Wishing she could be here. But since she can’t—I’m very honored you asked me to take her place.”

  Jamie nodded, so grateful to the other woman but still unable to speak. Stella crouched to Cory’s level. “Sweetie, you look beautiful. Are you ready?”

  Cory nodded, her eyes huge. Today the little girl shone. Her hair had been curled, styled and decorated with tiny daisies. The dress Stella had made for her was pink satin perfection.

  “Okay. Smile big ladies. This is show time.”

  * * *

  Wade figured he was the only one in the room looking at Kyle, and not Jamie, as the bride walked down the aisle. Seemed like most of his life he’d been trying to fight his attraction to Jamie Lachlan. First because she was too young, not to mention the sister of one of his best friends. After that there had been years when he’d lived away from Twisted Cedars. He’d only just returned to make his run for the Sheriff’s job, when Jamie had suddenly started dating Kyle.

  If he’d ever had an opportunity with her, he’d missed it.

  And it wasn’t right for him to regret that. Not when he had Charlotte Hammond by his side. She was one of several who had let out a sigh when they caught their first glance of Jamie. Wade didn’t doubt she was making a beautiful bride.

  But for him it was safer to focus on the groom. And so far, Kyle was spending more time scanning the room than looking at Jamie.

  Wade didn’t care what he was looking for. The point was, in this moment, Jamie deserved to be the only thing Kyle was thinking about. The trouble with Kyle, however, was that most of the time he was thinking of only himself.

  Wade shifted his weight, then glanced at Jim Quinpool. The groom’s father looked more worried than happy. And Muriel, his ex-wife, appeared downright anxious. He’d heard the two of them could no longer abide being in the same room. Apparently that was true. Standing between them was their grandson, Chester. One thing was for sure. He wasn’t as happy about this wedding as his sister. Cory’s face glowed as she joined her father at the front of the church.

  And then, Jamie was there, too.

  All Wade could see was her back, and then, when she turned to face Kyle, her profile. God, she was lovely. Quickly, he averted his gaze toward Charlotte, who gave him her usual calm, sweet smile. He smiled back, patted his jacket pocket, and told himself to relax.

  * * *

  The evening was almost over. Charlotte felt that Jamie and Kyle would consider their wedding a success. The reception had progressed smoothly. Hardly anyone had noticed when Muriel Quinpool slipped out of the receiving line. She’d surprised Charlotte by seeking her out.

  “How are you doing, dear?”

  Slightly puzzled, Charlotte had said, “I’m fine, thank-you. How are you enjoying living in Portland?”

  Muriel hadn’t answered. She’d taken hold of Charlotte�
��s arm, gripping it tightly. Her face looked sad. Troubled. She took a breath, seemed about to say something, then shook her head.

  A moment later, she slipped out of the Rogue River Country Club, without saying good-bye to anyone, without so much as a single backward glance.

  Her ex-husband was the only other person who had noticed her departure as far as Charlotte could tell. Jim’s jaw had tightened. For a moment Charlotte thought he would follow his ex-wife. But he’d turned resolutely from the door and headed to the bar, instead.

  Now he was drunk, sitting quietly at the table that had been reserved for him and other assorted Quinpool relatives.

  Charlotte was thankful that she and Wade, despite her official Quinpool family status, had been seated with friends they knew well. For them the evening had passed pleasantly and just moments ago, when the band began playing a slower, more romantic set, Wade had asked her to dance.

  Now, as Jamie made her way to the microphone—presumably to toss the bouquet—he guided her to the far end of the room, where a patio door was open to the outside terrace. Thanks to a cool wind, they had the place to themselves.

  Wade wrapped his arms around her waist. “Are you cold?”

  “No,” she lied, because she suspected that Wade needed a little distance from the wedding proceedings. On the whole, he had held up well, she thought. If she hadn’t known how he felt about Jamie, she never would have guessed based on his behavior tonight.

  “I wanted a minute alone with you,” he said.

  “Oh?” She glanced up, studied his eyes. He looked very serious. Very intent.

  “You deserve better than me.” As he spoke, he let go of her with one hand and pulled something from the pocket he’d been guarding all night.

  And then she knew.

  Her heart began to pound. She felt the same dizzy fear that accompanied her usual panic attacks. No, she told herself. Not now. She took a deep breath and held it while she counted slowly to five.

  Wade took hold of her left hand, slipped down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

  Oh my God. It was the most perfect marriage proposal. And just at that moment, a full moon broke out from the clouds, as if part of the script.