“Actually, subletting the apartment was the least of my worries.”
“Oh?”
“It’s kind of mind-blowing. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow. It’s late and you look beat.”
“You can’t be serious. I’ll never sleep now that you’ve made me so curious. What happened?”
“You know that neighbor who was looking after Borden while I was away?”
“You said it was an old guy. Monty, right?”
“Yeah. Monty Monroe, or so he said. I thought he was a lonely guy willing to do me a favor by pet sitting Borden. But his motivations were much more devious than that. He was the one sending me those emails. My neighbor was none other than Librarianmomma.”
The reason Dougal had come back to Twisted Cedars last month—first time since he’d left after high school graduation—was to follow up on a lead for a potential new crime story about a man who’d murdered four librarians back in the seventies.
Dougal had been tipped off about the series of homicides by anonymous emails—and all his evidence to date had supported the information he’d been given.
Four librarians had been murdered, one a year, until 1974, when Charlotte’s Aunt Shirley—also a librarian—had hung herself in the Twisted Cedars Library. Dougal was planning to write a book about the murders, and Charlotte was helping him with the research.
“No! You actually found Librarianmomma? Was he just playing a game with you?”
“It wasn’t a game. He was deadly serious. And Monty Monroe was just an alias.” From his pocket Dougal pulled out the note Monty had left him in Borden’s cat carrier.
Well done, son. Now write the book.
Charlotte read the note twice, then frowned. “He calls you son. Some men, do that, don’t they? Even when there’s no relation.”
“Some men do. But in this case, I’m afraid it’s true. I’m almost positive Monty is my biological father, Edward Lachlan.”
“No, that’s not possible.” She studied his face. Realized he was serious. Less than a year ago, Ed Lachlan had been released from the Oregon penitentiary, where he’d served time for killing his second wife, Crystal Halloway. Fortunately he hadn’t harmed their eight-year-old daughter who’d been on a sleepover at the time.
“Your father should still be on parole, right? So how could he have ended up in New York City? Let alone afforded to rent an apartment. It’s got to be expensive, right?”
“I’m guessing he skipped parole soon after his release and got himself set up with a new identity. I’m also guessing he has money stashed somewhere. God knows how or where he got it.”
Dougal rubbed a hand over his face. He looked so tired. But worse, deep in his eyes, she could see pure misery. Dougal hated his father with a passion.
“Are you sure Monty is your father? How is it you never recognized him?”
“I hadn’t seen him since I was six. Plus, he’d gone gray and grown a beard, and was all stooped over. Going up stairs he’d complain about his arthritis. He’s only in his sixties, but prison must have been hard on him. He looks much older.”
“So what happened when you saw him? What did you say to him?”
Dougal shook his head. “Monty—I mean Ed—had cleared out by the time I got there. He left Borden with lots of food, water and litter, at least.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yeah, but they weren’t impressed. I have no proof Monty Monroe was really Ed Lachlan. By now he’s probably changed his identity again. They’ll never find him.”
“I’d have no idea how to change my identity.”
“That’s because you’re honest. My dad would have the right connections.”
“Did you ever meet his second wife, the one he killed?”
“Absolutely not. My mother cut off ties completely from our father after he left. And her friends, the Wards, made it pretty clear that if he ever tried to contact us again, they’d make big trouble. It was only after I turned eighteen and left Oregon that Ed dared to get in touch with me.”
“I wonder where he is now?”
“Far away, I hope. South America would be nice.” But even as he said this, Dougal scanned the room anxiously, and Charlotte realized how much this was going to haunt him. From this point forward, Dougal would always be on the lookout for his outlaw father.
And then something else occurred to her. Less than two weeks ago they’d figured out her aunt Shirley had given up a child for adoption when she was sixteen. This child, they’d reasoned, could be the person sending the e-mails, the infamous Librarianmomma.
“Does this mean your father—Ed Lachlan—was the baby my aunt Shirley gave up for adoption?”
“Talk about twisted, huh? Good thing you’re adopted.”
She wrinkled her nose. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. “Why do you think he hid behind that Librarianmomma ID for so long?”
“I would have deleted the messages, unread, if I knew they were from him. I guess he figured if he could hook me with his story, I would get sucked in. And I did.”
“Is there any chance he didn’t murder those librarians?”
“No. He’s the killer. Nothing else makes sense,” Dougal said, his voice dead of emotion.
She reached for his shaking hand and held it tight. Pain practically radiated off his skin. It had been hard for him to come back to Twisted Cedars, to the memories he didn’t want to face.
Growing up Dougal had lived with his mother and younger sister, Jamie, in a trailer park on the east side of town. His mother cleaned houses for a living, and he and Jamie often had to fend for themselves.
But childhood poverty wasn’t what had provided the scars.
Those came from knowing he had a father who was violent enough to kill. Dougal was obsessed with the fact that he shared fifty percent of his DNA with a man capable of murder, and he was terrified of his own dark side.
Charlotte believed he channeled those emotions into his stories for a reason—so he would never turn into the sort of man his father had been.
“Maybe you can do such a good job writing your book your father will end up spending the rest of his life in jail.”
“Love the idea. But it would be damn near impossible to build a case after almost forty years. There’s no statute of limitations on murder, but I’d bet little, if any, of the evidence will have survived this long. And remember this happened in the seventies. No real ability to do DNA testing, no Internet, hell, crime labs back then were in their infancy. Not nearly as sophisticated as today.”
“But still. Isn’t he afraid that by confessing to those crimes, he stands a chance of being charged and going back to prison?”
“Law enforcement would have to find him first. And I’m guessing he values notoriety more than his freedom, anyway.”
“Sounds like it’s also important to him to establish a connection with you.”
Dougal’s eyes darkened. “And I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”
chapter four
day 1 after the accident
jamie Lachlan pulled her car into the Wards’ driveway, feeling more lost than ever after a week-long camping trip that had been meant to give her clarity. Instead, she was wet, dirty and despondent.
A four a.m. downpour had caused her to pull up stakes and head back to Twisted Cedars.
But she felt no joy at being here.
The major changes that define a person’s life sometimes happen in an instant, like a car accident, or a devastating medical diagnosis. From that point onward, life can be measured in terms of “before” and “after.”
Other changes, equally major, take place over a period of time. Days, weeks, months or years.
For Jamie, her change happened in a span of one month and three days, the time between marrying Kyle Quinpool and discovering he’d probably killed his first wife.
In her “before” life Jamie had been a happy, well-educated woman with a good career as an accountant and a handsome, s
uccessful husband who loved her very much. Two step-children were part of the package, nine-year-old twins from Kyle’s first marriage to Daisy Hammond. Also part of the deal was a beautiful two-story Victorian, about ten times larger than the park model trailer where Jamie had grown up.
Very soon after her marriage, however, Jamie had begun to sense Kyle wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. When her brother discovered Daisy’s body buried behind the Librarian Cottage about five miles from town—and she herself had found proof that Kyle had been making withdrawals from his ex-wife’s bank account to create the illusion she was still alive—that hunch had become fact.
Jamie grabbed her backpack from the passenger seat, then went to the front door. Before she had the chance to knock, Stella was there.
Sixty-four-year-old Stella had been Jamie’s mother’s best friend, as well as business partner. For thirty-five years they’d cleaned houses together. And socialized, as well. Stella and her husband, Ward, had been like surrogate grandparents to Jamie and Dougal.
And that certainly hadn’t changed after Jamie’s mom died of cancer.
“I got rained out last night,” Jamie said. “And I didn’t know where to go.”
“I’m glad you came home.”
Stella gave her a warm hug, not seeming to mind that Jamie was damp and smelly.
After Jamie had showered and changed into dry clothes, she offered to cook a late breakfast of pancakes and scrambled eggs.
“That sounds delicious,” Stella said.
“Is Amos here?”
“Oh, he’s been gone since dawn. Fishing.”
Jamie hesitated, noting something off in Stella’s tone. Were there problems between her and Amos? Jamie hoped not. Their home was one of the few stable things in her life.
Puttering around Stella’s familiar kitchen helped Jamie feel normal again. She mixed up the pancake batter quickly, then put a frying pan and the griddle on the stove to heat.
When Stella tentatively asked how she was her anger and confusion came rushing back.
“It’s so awful what he did. I just wish I hadn’t sold my trailer. Or been gullible enough to quit my job for him. I hate not having a job to go to on Monday morning.” Her nerves tensed every time she thought about how Kyle had manipulated her into leaving her job...telling her his accountant had retired and he desperately needed help.
But when Jamie checked with his former accountant, she’d found Kyle had let her go.
Another lie. This one not as serious as the ones about Daisy. But still.
“If you ask Colin Howard, I’m sure he’ll give you your job back.”
“I hope so.” She spooned batter onto the griddle, then stopped to fume again. “How could I have been so wrong about him?”
“You aren’t the first woman to be charmed by a bad man.”
“I guess you’re referring to my Mom and her marriage to my father.” Jamie knew very little about Ed Lachlan. Her father had been gone before she was born. According to her brother, she was lucky.
Given what had happened subsequently—her father remarrying, then killing his second wife in a domestic dispute, and serving time for manslaughter—Jamie acknowledged Dougal was right.
But she felt an aching sadness about her father, all the same.
“Amos and I blame ourselves for introducing Katie to Ed in the first place,” Stella said.
“Mom wouldn’t want you to feel guilty. She made her own choice to marry him.” And now Jamie had made almost the same mistake as her mother. Only, instead of marrying a violent man who would one day kill his wife, she’d married one who already had.
“I can’t believe no one saw anything the night Daisy died.” Jamie added butter to the frying pan. “In a small town like this how is that possible?”
“There are more secrets in Twisted Cedars that you might guess.” Stella adjusted the wedding rings on her hand, then sighed and got to her feet. “Here, let me get the eggs for you.”
“Please sit down and relax. You work hard all week. You deserve a break.”
“Ah, you’re such a sweetie. So like your mother that way.”
“Helping out is the least I can do to thank you. I have no idea where I’d have turned if you hadn’t offered me your spare room.”
The house she’d shared with Kyle so briefly after their early June wedding had been cordoned off by the police after they found Daisy’s remains. Kyle had moved into his father’s apartment, while the kids, fortunately, were still at summer camp, blissfully unaware of the ugly drama playing out at home.
“It’s a pleasure to have you,” Stella insisted, sounding like she meant it.
Jamie put her arms around Stella’s plump shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I can’t stay forever, though. And since Liz bought my trailer, I have no idea where I’m going to move.”
“Don’t be in a rush to leave. You have enough problems to worry about. Like those poor kids. Who’s going to tell them about all this?”
Jamie bit her lip. Despite having married Kyle, she had no legal claim to the twins. And that worried her. In the short time she and Kyle had been together, his daughter, in particular, had come to count on her.
Jamie had promised Cory that she would be still be there, a part of the family, when the twins came home from camp. At the time it had seemed an easy promise to make, because though she’d begun to have uneasy suspicions about Kyle, she’d never guessed he was actually behind the so-called “disappearance” of his first wife.
“Today is their last day at camp. Kyle and Charlotte, as well as the Sheriff, are going to pick them up and tell them the news together. ”
“Poor things. And where will they live now? Surely not with Kyle, if he’s under suspicion for their mother’s death?”
“Charlotte’s going to take them. She has lots of room in her house and I’m going to help with the move.” Jamie wished she could be given custody, at least temporarily, but since she and Kyle had been married for little more than a month, a blood relative had been preferred.
“What about the twins’ grandmother?”
Jamie shook her head. “Muriel isn’t up to it.”
“She did look frail at your wedding,” Stella agreed. “And I noticed she left early.”
A year ago everyone in town had been shocked when Muriel left her husband of over thirty years, Jim Quinpool, and moved to live with her sister in Portland.
But Kyle’s parents must have known what happened. How could they not, when they were living in the house where Daisy had died?
It could very well be that the strain and guilt had driven a wedge in the marriage and led to the divorce.
“What a sorry mess,” Stella said.
Jamie had to agree. In her “before” life, she would just be returning from her honeymoon now. Instead, she was alone again, without home or job.
chapter five
there’s something I probably should have mentioned last night.”
Charlotte snuggled in Dougal’s arms. They were both naked, mellow after making love in the late morning sunshine that streamed through the open window. Across the room, Borden sat on a chair, watching them. Charlotte couldn’t decide if the cat looked disapproving, or merely bored.
Dougal ran his hand gently up and down her back. “What’s that?”
“The twins are coming home from summer camp today.” She cleared her throat, then gazed at his face to check his reaction.
“Good thing they weren’t home when we found their mother.”
“Yes...”
Dougal shifted up on one elbow. “What are you trying to say?”
“With Kyle under suspicion for Daisy’s death, and their grandmother out of town and in poor health, the kids need a temporary guardian.”
“Don’t tell me.” Dougal scrambled out of bed and reached for his clothes. “My sister volunteered, right? Jamie hasn’t been married to Kyle for even two months, and now she’s going to be saddled with his kids? Damn it, I wish that sister
of mine would listen to me once in a while.”
“No, not Jamie.”
Dougal was pulling out his phone, but he paused at her words. Then he frowned. “So, if not Jamie, then...?”
“Me, Dougal. I’ve agreed to take custody of Chester and Cory. In fact, Wade will be here in thirty minutes. We’re supposed to be at Wolf Creek Camp by noon.”
* * *
“So how does Dougal feel about you taking custody of Daisy’s kids?” Wade asked.
Charlotte turned her gaze to the ocean on the right. The churning waves matched the way her stomach was feeling right now. “I just told him this morning. He was kind of...shocked.”
When she agreed to take the kids, she’d known her decision would likely endanger her fledgling relationship with Dougal. He had trouble enough committing to a woman, let alone one raising nine-year-old twins.
“It’ll be a big adjustment.”
“Yes.” They were about ten minutes from Wolf Creek Camp. Most of the drive up, Wade had spent on his phone checking in on the investigation into yesterday’s accident, as well as other Sheriff’s Office matters, including a call to the hospital to ask about the accident victim, who was still in a coma.
Ten minutes later, Wade turned off the coastal highway and headed east into the mountains. Wolf Creek Camp was only thirty minutes away now. Behind them, Kyle followed in his own vehicle, far enough back that Charlotte couldn’t see his face, let alone his expression.
If she was feeling anxious, she could only imagine how much worse it was for him. She gave a small laugh.
“What?” Wade asked.
“I just caught myself feeling sorry for Kyle.”
Wade glanced at her sympathetically. “It’s a complicated situation.”
They were quiet, then, as Wade concentrated on the narrow, winding road. Eventually he took the final turn and ahead of them were the camp buildings, including the main lodge, two bunkhouses, and a barn for the horses.
The camp had been configured around Wolf Creek which ran a lazy “S” through the property. Wade’s SUV jostled as he drove over the wooden plank bridge. The parking area ahead of them was almost empty. Wade had arranged with the camp director for them to pick up the twins two hours before the other campers’ parents were scheduled to arrive.
forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) Page 3