But maybe the root of their differences had been deeper.
Recently Dougal had told him that he’d always felt an outsider. He lived in a trailer park on the west side of town. His mom cleaned house for Wade and Kyle’s families. Worse, he had a father who was estranged from the family and serving time for murder.
That had been the real cause of their differences, Wade suspected.
But could any of that history have relevance to what was going on in Twisted Cedars right now?
Wade didn’t see how. Yet, he felt that it might.
* * *
At three in the afternoon Wade was at his office catching up on paperwork, when he got another call from a grim-voiced Detective Waverman.
“We’ve recovered the body of a baby same approximate age, sex and size as Josephine Caruthers.”
The words hit Wade like a punch in the gut. Kids, especially babies, were always the hardest. “Have you got a positive ID?”
“Medical Examiner can’t say for sure. But the father has identified the pajamas she was wearing at the time.”
“Winnie-the Pooh,” Wade recalled.
“That’s right.”
“Cause of death is drowning?”
There was a pause, then Waverman shared a fact that wouldn’t be going public. “That’s for your ears only. We’ll have the preliminary autopsy tomorrow. For now all we’re saying is the body had been in the water for about a week.”
“You’ve got someone notifying the mother?” He thought of Joelle, vulnerable and damaged in her hospital room. How would this news affect her? Would she be protected from pain by her broken-down brain?
Was whatever had happened to Josephine the reason she’d broken down in the first place?
“Any leads on the guy who was driving the boat?”
“We’ve talked to the neighbor again. He says for sure it was a man. But he admits he can’t say for sure it was Richard.”
“How did the husband react when you told him his daughter’s body had been recovered?”
This was a key moment for a trained investigator. If the husband had been guilty, there were numerous ways he might betray himself.
“He broke down and cried.”
Like a normal father.
Like an innocent man.
Then again, Richard Caruthers was in the theatre business. They couldn’t afford to forget that.
chapter twenty-nine
day 10 after the accident
monday morning Jamie asked Colin Howard if she could talk to him about her future with the firm.
She’d spent most of the weekend thinking about the house on Horizon Hill Road.
Twice she’d driven by it. The third time, she’d gone out and walked the length of the road, studying the houses of the neighbors and trying to decide if she would fit in.
She knew her brother thought she—and their mother—were eternal optimists with a weakness for being too trusting, a soft touch. He blamed their soft hearts for their bad judgment in men. And he’d been proved right on that score.
But what he didn’t seem to appreciate was that she and her mother also shared a realistic streak.
Dougal judged their mother harshly for her casual affairs. Never had it occurred to him that their mother had been protecting them, not letting any man close enough to ever hurt her children.
Their mother had made her own happily ever after her own bad marriage.
Now Jamie had to do the same thing.
“Let’s talk now.” Colin got up to close the door. At fifty-two, Colin was the ‘younger’ of the firm’s two partners. In the past he’d hinted broadly that he could foresee the day when Jamie would be invited to be a full-equity partner, too. She had no idea if the drama in her life over the two months had affected her chances.
She hoped not.
“I’m really grateful you and Ben let me come back to the firm when my marriage ended. But I need to know what you’re prepared to offer for the future.”
“You’re a great asset to the firm.” Ben looked at her with warm brown eyes—they always seemed to be smiling, even when his mouth wasn’t. “Eventually we’d like to see you in a partner role. Down the road.”
“I’m just wondering how far down the road. And if we could get something in writing.”
Colin’s eyebrows went up.
Jamie worried she’d come across as too pushy. “Since I’ve already sold my trailer, I don’t have anywhere to live. I could buy another trailer with my money. But I looked at a house on Horizon Hill Road this weekend. It’s lovely, but I wouldn’t want to buy unless I was sure I had a secure future here.”
Colin nodded approvingly. “A house in that neighborhood would be a good investment for you. Even more importantly, I think it’s a healthy step.”
He hesitated, then sighed. “What Kyle did—we were all shocked Jamie. No one guessed he was capable of something like that. I feel terrible that he managed to deceive you as well.”
Jamie noticed he spoke definitely, as if there were no doubt. Innocent until proven guilty was merely a technicality in this case, and in this town.
Not that she blamed Colin, or anyone else. Kyle had pretty much admitted his guilt, straight to her face. And the facts were difficult to dispute.
“I don’t want to be pitied, Colin. I just want to ensure I’m making a sound financial commitment if I make an offer on this house.”
“Fair enough. You’ve earned nothing but respect in this office. In fact, we’ve were just talking about assigning you a new client—we’ve been approached by a wealthy individual looking for a new tax accountant. Ben and I both agreed you would be perfect.”
This was better than she’d hoped. “Really?”
“Yes. It’s time you started building your own client base. I think it’s fair to say that in five years you would be in position to be named Junior Partner. How does that sound?”
“Excellent. Thanks Colin.” She would call Bailey Landax on her lunch hour. Talk about putting together an offer. Jamie could feel her spirits lifting.
But then Colin shared another piece of news.
“Did you hear Kyle and Jim have put their real estate business on the market? Can’t say I’m surprised. I heard all their clients are asking to be let out of their agreements. Needless to say, they haven’t closed a deal since the news went public.”
“I hadn’t heard.”
“I guess they aren’t expecting the trouble to blow over.”
“No. I don’t think there’s much chance of that happening.”
* * *
Headlines kept distracting Charlotte as she put out the Monday morning editions in the Newspaper and Periodical section of the library.
“Baby’s Body Found in Hyatt Lake.”
“Hopes Die As Baby’s Body Discovered.”
The local Oregon papers had been covering the story of the Caruthers’ missing child all weekend, but on Monday the news went national. Even the New York Times and Washington Post made mention of it, though not on the front page.
Charlotte read every story, even though they all said essentially the same thing.
And they all played up the bit about the Winnie the Pooh pajamas. The fact that the tiny corpse had been wearing them seemed to leave little room for doubt that the recovered body truly was little Josephine Caruthers.
Charlotte returned to her desk where she added two new titles to her wish list. There were so many great books she wanted to buy for the library this fall—if only she had a bigger acquisitions budget. But as the board kept reminding her, more people came to the library to use the free Wi-Fi than they did to read books now. It was a changing world, and libraries had to change, as well.
“Look at this one!” A skinny girl with light brown hair giggled as she hit the play button on a You Tube video. Her friend, sitting on a chair that had been squished into the same cubicle, leaned forward. “Oh, they’re so cute!”
Casually Charlotte checked the screen as she walked
past, and smiled as she saw that the girls were watching a video about cats. The two girls, around age thirteen, had been online for about an hour now. Though the computers were highly protected, Charlotte still liked to keep an eye on them.
At three o’clock all the online news services were beeping with updates on the Caruthers’ case. Preliminary autopsy results confirmed the little girl’s identity and pointed to drowning as the cause of death, probably late Friday night or early Saturday morning.
Charlotte called Dougal. “Did you hear the latest on Joelle’s baby?”
“I just got in from a hike on some old logging roads.”
Which meant the writing wasn’t going well. Again.
Charlotte had initially supported the idea of him writing a fictional mystery. But she was beginning to think Dougal had another calling. One he might hate, but that he couldn’t deny.
“You still there? You said there was news about the baby?”
She relayed the autopsy results. “The reporters are also quoting a neighbor who saw Joelle and her husband take the baby out on the boat around midnight a week ago Friday. Do you think they killed her together?”
“And then Richard goes back to Ashland and resumes working like usual—while Joelle walks down to the highway and hitches a ride with a trucker? Doesn’t make sense.”
“No. It really doesn’t.” She hung up the phone, worried about Joelle, sad for the baby...and worried about Dougal, as well.
* * *
Monday, from start to finish, was crazy at the Curry County Sheriff’s Office.
The trouble started when Laura and Vern Anders of Port Orford were reported missing. Both of their employers phoned the Sheriff’s Office, independently, out of concern when they didn’t show up for work as usual.
Apparently they were model employees who never took sick days. Certainly not without phoning in to apologize.
One of Laura’s co-workers recounted Laura saying she and her husband planned to camp at Illahe and hike the Upper Rogue River Trail on the weekend.
Wade assigned the search and rescue mission to Dunne. “Might as well set up a command post at the Campground. Round up as many officers and volunteers as you can.”
“Will do.” Dunne marched out of his office with as much speed as he was capable of.
An hour later he reported that they’d found the Ander’s vehicle and tent at the campground. No sign of Laura or Vern, however.
“God, I hope we find them alive and well,” Wade muttered, when Marnie came in with some requests for him to sign.
“Laura Ander’s co-worker told me Laura was nervous because she’d heard there were lots of black bears, cougars and rattlesnakes on the trail.” Marnie rolled her eyes.
Only amateur hikers would worry about the wildlife indigenous to the Coastal Mountain terrain. Seasoned pros didn’t blink twice over the existence of wildlife. The animals were out there. If you were smart, and took a few precautions, they caused no problems.
Within three hours Dunne called in another progress report. They had searchers in place, working their way up the Rogue River Trail. He’d also been tracking down other hikers and river rafters who’d been on the trail Sunday. So far none of them had recognized photos of the Anders.
“Seems like they must have gone off the trail fairly early in the day,” Dunne concluded.
When Marnie set a sandwich and coffee on his desk, Wade glanced at his watch. Already it was two. “Thanks.”
“There’s too much going on these days to have our sheriff collapsing from weakness. I hear there’s a new restaurant opening at the look out on the point. Menu sounds great. And the views would be amazing.”
“Thanks for the tip. Come September I may have time to check it out.” He looked over Marnie’s shoulder. Duane was in the doorway, waving a sheaf of papers.
“Lab results.”
Wade waved him inside, and Marnie withdrew.
“Human hair found on the tarp that had been wrapped around Daisy Hammond’s body prior to burial, and on Daisy, herself, has been DNA matched to Kyle Quinpool,” Duane reported. He flipped to another page.
“And the blood in the Quinpool’s kitchen is a match to Daisy’s, as well.”
Wade let it all soak in. While the results were as expected, it was still sobering to reflect that their case was now as solid as it would ever get.
Jim’s confession the other day had been a smokescreen. The fact that he hadn’t even known what Daisy was wearing had confirmed to Wade that Kyle had acted alone. When you took these lab results, added the fraud Kyle had perpetrated with Daisy’s bank card, and the known tension between him and his ex-wife, the case looked pretty strong.
They’d just have to see if the prosecutor agreed.
chapter thirty
dougal was bothered more than he thought he should be by news of Joelle Caruthers’ baby’s death. He’d planned to try writing again that afternoon, but his thoughts kept veering away from his fiction and circling back to Joelle.
Was it really a coincidence that she’d ended up in his hometown?
It wasn’t logical to think there might be a connection between them. He knew he’d never met her before. But he couldn’t stop thinking that she must have thought he could help her. And for that to be true, there had to be a reason.
Had it been something he’d written in his book?
Or was it something more personal. Something he’d overlooked.
The more he ruminated, the more he feared he’d let her down. She was an emotionally battered woman, in need of help. A woman running from her identity in more ways than one.
And then an idea came to him.
He went online to read about the homicide case that had landed his father in prison ten-and-a-half years ago. He searched until he saw photos of the victim.
And when he did, he realized he might be onto something.
He called Wade. “Look, I have a hunch about Joelle Caruthers. Would it be possible for you to tell me everything you know about her background?”
“That’s not the way the system works.” Wade sounded bone-tired. “We do the interviewing. Not the general public.”
“Sometimes you have to be flexible.”
“I’m juggling a dozen problems at the moment. Is that flexible enough for you?”
“If I’m right, Joelle’s life could be in danger. You want to follow the system? Or save her?”
Of course Wade could only make one choice.
“Linger Longer in an hour?”
“I’ll be there,” Dougal promised.
* * *
Wade looked like a burdened man when he entered the bar at the agreed upon time. Dougal had a light beer and a burger waiting for him. Personally, he had no appetite, and his own beer was on the table, untouched. He wanted to keep a clear head.
“Thanks for coming.”
Wade sank heavily into his chair. “We may be too late already.”
“What happened?”
“I just had a call from the clinic in Brookings. Joelle left without checking out.
“Do you have any idea where she’s headed? Or if she’s alone?”
Wade shook his head.
“Did she know the baby’s body had been found?”
“Yes. Someone on staff at the hospital told her. And she disappeared about an hour later. Maybe the shock of having the death confirmed brought back more of her memories and she just couldn’t deal. I wish like hell she would have called me, if she needed help.”
“Is it possible she didn’t leave the hospital of her own accord?”
“I wondered about that. I called the authorities in Ashford to see if they could question Richard. But they can’t find him. I’m afraid he may be the one who took Joelle out of that hospital.”
Dougal had another theory. But he needed more information, first.
When he noticed Wade examining the beer and burger in front of him like they were puzzling artifacts, he said, “Eat. You’re going to need yo
ur strength.”
Without apparent enthusiasm Wade took a bite of the burger and washed it down with a drink of water, not beer.
“So what can you tell me about Joelle?”
“You really think this will help?”
“I do.”
Wade sighed. “What the hell. Situation can’t get much worse. Joelle’s mother died when she was a young girl, and she ended up in foster care.”
“Her father?” Dougal asked quietly.
“Wasn’t in the picture. That’s according to Richard.”
Dougal could hear the blood pounding in his ears. “Tell me about the baby. How did she die?”
Wade shifted in his chair. “The body was found in the lake. We won’t have the autopsy report until tomorrow.”
Dougal stared at him. The eyes of an honest man always revealed more than the man himself. “You know more than that.”
Wade hesitated for a long time before admitting, “There is something we’re keeping from the public.”
“The baby had a broken neck, right?”
Wade stiffened with shock. And it was his turn to search Dougal’s eyes for the truth.
“I’ll tell you my theory,” Dougal said. “But you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Try me.”
“I think Joelle is my half-sister. I’m afraid our father killed her baby. And he may be going after Joelle as well.”
* * *
Dougal was waiting to see how Wade would reply to his theory, when he realized Wade was no longer focusing on their conversation, but was eyeing a stranger who’d just entered the bar.
The man was average looking in every sense except for a prominent chin. His clothing set him apart from most locals—linen pants and a light pink shirt.
Dougal had a hunch. “Is that Richard Caruthers?”
“Yup.” Wade had locked eyes with the other man, and waited as Richard strode over purposefully.
Richard splayed his hands on the table, showing off a polished wedding ring and a fairly recent manicure.
“Where is my wife? I need to see her.”
“Sit down,” Wade invited. “Let’s talk.”
forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) Page 18