Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) (2 page)

He checked the printed name inside the card, and there it was, confirmed in black and white,
Kyle Quinpool and Jamie Lachlan would be so happy if..
.

Back in high school, Dougal played football with Kyle. In Dougal’s mind Kyle was the Great Gatsby of Twisted Cedars. He had it all—wealthy family, golden-haired good-looks, and a great talent as a quarterback as well. After graduation Kyle married the prettiest girl in town, went to work with his dad, fathered twins. But his storybook life took a twist at that point.

Dougal had heard most of the details from his mother. Apparently Kyle’s wife, Daisy—also a friend of theirs from high school—changed after the twins were born, suffered some sort of breakdown. A few years later, she and Kyle divorced, and shortly after that Daisy left town. Just like that, abandoning her children as well as her parents and a younger sister.

“Poor thing was so disturbed,” Dougal’s mother had said.

But Dougal had wondered if she was just that anxious to get away from Kyle.

Once Kyle had been someone Dougal envied and admired. But now, with the distance of miles and years, Kyle was someone he despised. He was not someone Dougal wanted anywhere near his sister. Let alone married to her.

* * *

After a night filled with dreams and numerous trips to the john—had it been the Thai food he’d ordered in? Or the beers?—Dougal awakened knowing what he had to do.

As a writer, Dougal believed in the power of three. First had been his mother’s death. Second had been that curious email. And now, third and finally, was Jamie’s impending wedding.

He’d once sworn he would never do it. But he had to return to Twisted Cedars. He had to try and talk his sister out of making this mistake or he’d never forgive himself. And while he was there, he might as well hit Roseburg and check into that homicide. Flying would be the quickest option, but getting around in Oregon wasn’t like here in the city. There was no metro. No taxi waiting around every corner, either. He could rent a car, or he could buy one here and make a road trip out of it. That would take longer, but the idea of driving across the country was appealing for some reason.

The biggest problem was Borden. He doubted his eighteen-year-old cat would enjoy a cross-country road trip. In the past, his editor had taken care of Borden when he was traveling. But those were mostly book tours. This was personal.

There was that crippled, old guy next door. Monty something-or-other. He’d moved in about a year ago and been reasonably friendly when they passed in the hall or by the mailbox. Once Borden had snuck out Dougal’s door when the old guy was in the hall, and he’d mentioned that he’d like to get a pet himself, if he was younger and healthier.

It was worth a shot, Dougal figured. So he headed down the hall to 5C. He knocked, then listened to the sound of the man’s cane hitting the wooden floors as his neighbor made his way to the door. With his long gray hair and scruffy beard he looked like a guy you’d cross a street to avoid.

Dougal held out his hand. “Don’t believe we’ve formally met. I’m Dougal Lachlan.”

“Monty Monroe.”

Dougal looked beyond him into the living room of the apartment. Monty’s place was pretty tidy for an older man living on his own. “I have a big favor to ask.” He explained about needing someone to feed his cat and change the litter.

“I’d be glad to. Maybe she could stay here with me while you’re gone?”

Dougal smiled. “That would be great. Thanks. Tomorrow morning okay?”

“Sure. Where are you going?”

“Road trip.”

Monty looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but Dougal cut him off, promising to drop by early the next morning with Borden and her supplies.

The rest of the day was spent making arrangements and by six o’clock Dougal had purchased a Ford Escape, packed his bags, and let his editor know about his plans.

Early the next morning he took Borden over to 5C.

Monty opened the door quicker this time, as if he’d been waiting by the door.

Dougal handed him the supplies, then wrote down his number, and the vet’s. When he unzipped the cat carrier, Borden refused to come out.

“Strange place,” Monty said. “Doesn’t smell like home. But curiosity will win out eventually.”

“If not that, then the need to pee. Where would you like me to set up her litter box?”

“Maybe here?” Monty pointed out a corner in the hallway. He stood nearby as Dougal filled the plastic box with fresh litter. “You goin’ on another of those book tours?”

“Not this time. Driving cross-country to Oregon. Maybe do some research for my next book.”

“That’s a long drive. Got family out there?”

“I grew up on the coast.” Dougal pulled out his wallet and peeled off a couple hundred. “This should see her in food and kitty litter until I get back. With some extra to thank you for your trouble.”

“Good-bye, Borden,” he called as he retreated to the hall. But Borden wouldn’t even look at him. Formal farewells weren’t her thing.

“Safe travels,” Monty said. “And don’t worry. I have everything covered.”

* * *

Within the hour, Dougal was on the Interstate, listening to John Hiatt tell him to drive south.

But Dougal was heading west.

The days were long in late May and Dougal took advantage of the extra sunlight hours, pushing through to the edge of Chicago before stopping for the night at a motel just off the highway.

First he had a shower, then feeling bone tired, he turned on the news, which was focused on a recent oil spillage. He watched for fifteen minutes until, thoroughly depressed, he turned off the TV and fell asleep.

The next day he was back on the I-80, listening to a Bob Marley CD Belinda had given him. She said he needed to “chill” and “get happy.” She had a point. Hadn’t his mother said virtually the same thing? He’d overheard her telling her friend and housecleaning partner, Stella Ward, that he was too serious. Too much like his—

She’d seen him listening. Hadn’t said the last word. But he’d filled in the blank. He was like his
father
.

Why couldn’t he have taken after his mother and his sister, both of whom had sunny dispositions and kind hearts? Even when his mother was diagnosed with cancer, five years ago, their innate optimism hadn’t been quenched.

“You can beat this,” Jamie had said, and Mom promised she would. Not that Dougal had been around to witness his mother’s slow and painful decline. He’d been too busy churning out his latest bestseller in the Big Apple.

Enough of the reggae beat, thank you. He switched the CD for one of Herbie Hancock’s. Another gift from Belinda. “Did you ever consider that the reason you like interviewing other people and writing their stories is so you don’t have to deal with your own issues?”

Oh, she was full of insights, Belinda.

On another occasion she’d asked him why he never talked about his family. Poor woman. She’d really believed she could find a kind, sensitive soul beneath his gruff exterior, if she could just get him to open up.

“Not much to tell,” he’d answered. But the truth was…there was
too much
to tell.

His mom, Katie, had been a good woman. Kind. He didn’t blame anything about his childhood on her. In fact, she’d deserved a better son than him. As an adolescent he’d been embarrassed by her, by the fact that she cleaned houses for a living, and worse, that she had a weakness for spending her Saturday nights at the local bar, dancing and chatting with men who always said they would call but never did.

And then there was dear old Pop. He’d left before Dougal started grade school, when his sister had been only a tiny bump on their mother’s small frame. They’d been lucky. Ed Lachlan had beaten his second wife to death and had only recently been released from Oregon State Penitentiary where he’d served his time.

Just like your father
...

Some legacy.

as she watched her
fiancé approach, Jamie Lachlan felt like a school girl again. Silly, excited, maybe even a little nervous. Kyle Quinpool had always made her feel this way, even when she was younger and Kyle had been one of her brother’s best friends.

The group of older kids usually hung out on Driftwood Lane, or on the beach. Mostly the guys—Kyle, Dougal and Wade—ignored her. But sometimes Kyle would give her one of his smiles, as if he knew she was going to grow up and knock his socks off one day.

These days she knocked off more than his socks.

“Hey there, handsome. I missed you.” He’d been away on business in Coos Bay for a few days. She’d wanted to go with him but, as he reminded her, their wedding was in two weeks and she had lots of packing to do.

He was anxious for her to move out of her trailer and into the house with him and his children. If he’d had his way, she would have done it the day they were engaged. She wasn’t an old-fashioned sort of woman, but since the children from his previous marriage were only nine and impressionable, she gently suggested they wait.

Kyle had sulked for a week.

But that had been months ago. And now there wasn’t much waiting left to be done.

Kyle took her in his arms and kissed her. “I’ve missed you too. Ready to go?”

She was. As they passed by the mailbox he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Dougal?”

“Nope. I guess you were right. He isn’t coming.” She tried to sound like it didn’t matter.

“Maybe it’s better this way. It’s not like he’s an important part of your life anymore.”

She wished she could dispute Kyle, but the facts spoke for themselves. When her mother was alive, they’d been lucky to see Dougal once a year—and only if they traveled to see him. Dougal never came to Twisted Cedars.

Since he’d missed their mother’s funeral, Jamie had stopped phoning and emailing, as well. And he hadn’t reached out once with an explanation for his absence.

Kyle held the door open to his black Audi SUV and she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Pretty dress,” he said.

She smiled, knowing it was the woman inside the dress he really liked. When she was younger, she’d despaired of her overly generous butt and boobs, but as a mature woman, she loved her sexy curves.

Kyle clearly did, too. Maybe because his first wife had been willowy and tall? Kyle’s first wife had once been beautiful—glamorous even, especially by Twisted Cedar’s standards. Unfortunately after the birth of the twins Daisy had developed some sort of post-partum psychosis. It was so bad, she’d been hospitalized for a while. Even when she was released, she couldn’t cope with her babies on her own.

So Kyle’s parents, Jim and Muriel Quinpool, had moved back into the family home, which fortunately was large enough to accommodate them all. But even with the extra help, Daisy couldn’t manage. After two years, the marriage finally broke down, and then, shortly after the divorce was finalized, Daisy had left town.

She’d sent an email explaining that she wanted to start a new life, and she hadn’t been heard from since.

Some women might feel slightly jealous of their fiancés ex-wife, but Jamie felt only pity for Daisy. She’d had everything, once. It was tragic the way mental illness had stripped everything away from her.

Kyle drove out of the Evergreen Trailer Park faster than the posted speed limit. There were always kids and pets running around, but Jamie held her tongue, knowing he hated a back-seat driver. She expected him to turn toward town, but he surprised her by heading north on the one-oh-one.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted us to have a quiet dinner for a change. How does the Sea House in Port Orford sound?”

“Perfect.”

Kyle had proposed to her at the Sea House. It was “their” place. She reached over to touch his cheek. His skin was so smooth he must have shaved again, to prepare for their date. How sweet that he’d wanted to please her.

She felt like she was poised at the top of a roller coaster, about to start the most thrilling ride of her life. Sometimes it scared her, how much she loved him. She couldn’t help worrying something would go wrong. She’d been programmed to think that way, she supposed. Her dad had taken off before she was born, then her brother had split as soon as he finished school. The only one she’d ever been able to count on was her mom—and even she, as sweet as she’d been—had been undependable at times.

The point was—Jamie wasn’t used to relying on people. She had to get over that.

She settled in to enjoy the drive. The one-oh-one had been carved through the rocks and the forest that made up the Oregon coastline and it wasn’t the sort of road one could drive recklessly. Two years ago Patricia and John Hammond—Daisy and her sister Charlotte’s parents—had been killed in a horrible head-on collision just before the turn-off to the Rogue River Golf and Country Club.

As they passed the spot, Jamie sent out a private prayer, but said nothing to Kyle about slowing down. Maybe he drove a little faster than she liked, but she had to admit he had complete control over the vehicle.

By the time they arrived at Port Orford, the sun looked like a golden beach ball resting on the far edge of the Pacific and the ocean shimmered with streaks of apricot, lavender and rose. They were seated at a table right by the window so they could enjoy the view. Kyle ordered wine and they chatted about the little things that had occupied them during the day, holding hands across the table. Jamie’s diamond caught the last of the brilliant rays from the setting sun and glowed as if with magical powers.

I wish
, Jamie thought.
I wish we could always be this happy
. She supposed all brides had the same hopes and expectations at the beginning of a marriage, though not all of them were lucky enough to fall in love with a man like Kyle.

Looking at him now, she had to catch her breath. Not just because of his good looks, his blond hair, bronzed skin and sparkling green eyes. He was also a loving father and a successful businessman. Too good to be true? The best thing was—he was all hers.

Jamie moved her foot until she touched his leg. As she’d hoped he would, Kyle reached down to stroke her bare calf. She felt a pleasurable shiver and was glad she’d worn a dress, and heels, and a dab of perfume.