forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) (20 page)

Two men were examining the back yard carefully. The contents of the trash can and compost bin had been emptied onto tarps, and would undoubtedly be sifted carefully for evidence.

Fifteen minutes after he’d arrived, Richard Caruthers had his suitcase packed and was ready to leave.

“Where will you go?” Wade asked him.

“To the theatre. Where else?”

Once they’d watched him drive off, Wade asked Duane if he wanted to grab a meal before they drove back to Twisted Cedars.

“Why not. Maybe we should pick up some tickets and take in a show after. Seems a shame to be right here and not go to a play,” Duane was on his phone, looking up something. “I bet we could get tickets to
Much Ado About Nothing
. Play starts in just two hours.”

Wade couldn’t imagine anything he’d rather not do. “That’s Shakespeare, right?”

“One of his romantic comedies. I bet you’d love it.”

“Oh, probably. But what would your wife think?”

“Good point. She’d be upset if I saw it without her. Sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. Probably got your hopes up.”

Wade gave his deputy an incredulous glance and Duane laughed.

* * *

Charlotte was aware that the administrators at Wolf Creek Camp didn’t encourage parents or guardians to phone their children during their time away. Their reasoning was that often children who were having fun before the call, would end up homesick after. But in Cory and Chester’s case, they had agreed to make an exception.

So Friday afternoon, during a quiet moment at work, Charlotte called to see how they were settling. Chester was on the line, first.

“I’m fine,” was all he said when she asked how he was.

“Are you having fun?”

“Yup.”

“No problems with the other kids?”

“Nope.”

Charlotte sighed. “You know that if you and your sister aren’t happy, I can be there in two hours to pick you up.”

“We’re good.”

“Okay. Well, I’m glad you’re having fun. Let me talk to your sister.”

Cory chattered on about the horse rides and the big bonfire they’d had the previous evening. Just as Charlotte was about to say goodbye, though, she did admit that the news about their Mom had spread throughout the camp.

“No one is being mean, but they look at us as if we’re weird.”

“Do you want to come home?”

“No. We’re okay.”

The twins were not going to be able to outrun this, no matter where they went. Not unless she moved them at least a thousand miles away, and even then, the scandal might follow, thanks to the Internet and social media.

She’d have to help them learn to cope. The only way to deal with the gossip and innuendo was to face it.

Not that she’d ever done that in her own life. Maybe she and the kids would have to learn together.

She’d been adopted into the Hammond family to be a companion to Daisy, and her parents had been nothing but kind to her. Yet they’d fostered an illusion that they were a perfect, happy family, when the truth was Daisy had disliked and resented her from the beginning to the end. The family albums were filled with pictures of the two of them, posed together with pretty smiles. No one would guess Daisy was pinching Charlotte’s shoulder, or that she’d just kicked her in the shin.

If they had been open about the conflict, instead of denying it, would she and Daisy have had a better relationship? She would never know the answer to that.

At quarter to five Birdie entered the library looking lost.

No. Not Birdie.

Terri Morrison from Heartland had called Charlotte today and told her Birdie was really Joelle Caruthers from Ashland. Apparently she had a husband—and a ten-month old baby who was currently missing.

Joelle still remembered none of this.

And from the looks of her, she was still walking around in a fog of forgetfulness.

Charlotte got out of her chair. “May I help you, Joelle?”

“I-I don’t know. I think I need to talk to Dougal Lachlan...”

“He lives about five miles out of town,” Charlotte explained, wondering why in the world Joelle should need to talk to Dougal.

“I heard he sometimes works here. You know, writing his books.”

“Sorry but he isn’t here right now.”

“I just have this feeling that I need to talk to him. I can’t even say why. I guess that sounds strange.”

Charlotte felt sorry for her. She’d been in a car crash. Now her baby was missing—possibly dead. But it was weird the way she seemed fixated on Dougal.

“He’s out at his cabin. It’s too far to walk to.”

“I’ve heard about that place. When I was cutting her hair, the mayor’s wife said people around town call it the Librarian Cottage because your aunt used to live there.”

“That’s true.”

“That’s the aunt who killed herself, right? Here, in the basement?”

It had been unconscionable for Belle and her stylists to fill Joelle’s head with all these stories. Didn’t they realize how vulnerable she was?

“That was a very long time ago.”

Joelle’s eyes flickered. “The Sheriff came to talk to me. He told me I have a baby. But that can’t be right. I don’t think I’m this Joelle Caruthers person. Do you?”

Charlotte didn’t know how to answer her. “It’s almost closing time. How about I lock things up here and give you a ride back to the shelter?”

She would have to call Wade later, and tell him about this. It seemed to her that Joelle was getting worse, not better.

* * *

Jamie left work early on Friday afternoon, to meet a realtor at a house on Horizon Hill Road. She’d been surfing the web during her lunch hour and spotted the two bedroom bungalow, neat and fairly new, built on a hill. On a whim, she’d contacted the realtor, who had set up a viewing right away.

The misty rain of the morning had left only wispy clouds behind, so Jamie was able to appreciate the stunning view of the ocean from the street. She guessed the view would be even more amazing inside.

The realtor was waiting for her at the front door. Bailey Landax was in her mid-forties, a polished blonde who looked as if her hair had been lacquered and her makeup layered to withstand anything the weather on the Oregon Coast could throw at it.

She had fashionable sling-back shoes, a Michael Kors purse and a Kate Spade wrap-around dress. “Jamie! So nice to meet you! You’ll love this house. A real charmer. I listed it just last week.”

As Bailey led her on a tour, Jamie felt oddly removed, almost like she was watching a reality TV show, not actually here in person listening as the realtor pointed out all the best features. The well-appointed bathrooms and kitchen. The large, walk-in closet. The cozy fireplace in the family room.

“Very nice.” Jamie could sense Bailey had hoped for more enthusiasm.

“If you’re looking for something larger, I have several other listings I could show you.”

“This has more than enough space for me.” In fact it felt palatial compared to her old double-wide. Jamie wasn’t sure she could handle having so much space, living on her own. Kyle’s house had been massive by her standards, too, but at least she’d shared that one with a husband and two kids.

Unwanted tears blurred her vision, and, afraid she was going to break down on the spot, she made up a pressing appointment and promised Bailey she’d be in touch real soon.

Once in her car, Jamie drove down the hill, pulled into a side street, then parked, and wept.

She cried for everything she’d lost the last two years. Her mother. The home where she’d grown up. Her marriage and her happily-ever-after dreams.

Fifteen minutes later, she was drying the tears and chiding herself for her breakdown, when a text message came through.

I’VE SEEN YOU COME BY MY HOUSE. I KNOW YOU MISS ME TOO. CAN WE MEET?

Oh Kyle. He’d always had a gift for catching her at her weakest.

NO POINT, she replied. But even as she typed out the words, she knew she was going to go.

* * *

Kyle had an open bottle of wine and some cheese and crackers on the kitchen island. Despite the stress lines around his eyes and mouth, he still looked handsome, dressed in slim fitting pants and a shirt the same shade of blue as his eyes.

But Jamie’s gaze kept being pulled to the corner wall, where she guessed Daisy had cracked her head.

If Kyle noticed her fascination with the spot, he pretended not to. Instead he poured her a glass of the same pinot noir they’d ordered for their wedding.

Jamie perched tentatively on a stool and took a sip. Kyle, on the other side of the kitchen watched her.

“I shouldn’t have driven by your house last night,” Jamie said. “I’m sorry if it gave you the wrong impression.”

“What would the right impression be?”

“That I’m having a hard time believing what a bad decision I made.”

“You mean by marrying me.”

She gave him a “Duh,” look.

“Look, Jamie, I admit I lied to you. But I did it for my kids, wanting to protect them. I see now that it was stupid. Not only have I lost them, but you as well.”

She sighed. “What’s done, is done.”

“But if you gave me a second chance, I promise things would be different. I have learned from my mistakes.”

“You sound sincere. I’m sure, right now, you believe what you’re saying.”

“Is it so inconceivable that a man can change?”

She didn’t answer.

“I can. And I will.” He turned to look at the photos that covered his fridge. “I miss them so much.”

“I’m sure they miss you, too.”

She could see him swallow hard. He was fighting back tears, and she didn’t believe it was an act.

“They shouldn’t be living with Charlotte. They hardly know her.” Kyle placed his hands on the island and leaned in toward her. “You should petition the court for custody. Cory and Chester love you. If they can’t be with me, they should be with you.”

“What?” She hadn’t seen the request coming, yet she had to admit she’d entertained the idea herself. She had even gone so far as to discuss the matter with her lawyer. “The courts favor biological relatives. You and I weren’t married for even two months.”

“But we dated for six months before we got married. And you saw them nearly every day. They were lucky if they spent two days a year with their Aunt Charlotte.”

And wasn’t that Kyle’s fault? Charlotte had told her that Kyle made it difficult for her to see Daisy’s children.

Jamie nibbled at the cheese tray, but the camembert was cold and the crackers broken.

It wasn’t in her nature to question Kyle’s motives, but in this case she’d be a fool not to. All this talk about wanting a second chance was bogus. He hadn’t really loved her. Ever.

He’d married her because he needed someone to run his household and look after his kids. Now he probably wanted her to have custody of the twins because he figured he could control her better than he could Charlotte.

“It doesn’t make sense for me to request custody of Chester and Cory.” She set down her wine glass. “Not when I’m seeing my lawyer next week about an annulment.”

j
oelle looked distraught, on the verge of panicked, when Wade picked her up on Saturday morning outside the women’s shelter. It was dawn, and a beautiful peacefulness hung over the town. But Joelle was impervious to the beauty of the sunrise, or the sweet smell of the air. She’d been calling the office repeatedly for the past fifteen minutes saying she needed to speak to the Sheriff. No one else would do.

Usually Joelle took pains with her grooming, probably out of habit, more than an attempt to impress anyone in Twisted Cedars. But this morning her hair was uncombed and she wore no makeup. She was dressed in faded-looking grey sweatpants and a blue T-shirt.

She said hello without looking at him, fumbled with her seat belt until he reached over and fastened it for her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I had an awful dream last night. About the accident. Except it wasn’t a dream. It was real.” Tears were pooled in her eyes when she turned to him.

“That’s good. It means you’re starting to remember.”

“What if I don’t want to remember?”

He’d been planning to take her to the office, but she looked so weak and shaken. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Last night.”

“What exactly?”

It took her a while to recall. “Yogurt and an apple.”

“How about we go for a cup of herbal tea and a muffin while we talk?” He didn’t think coffee would be a good idea. She seemed jumpy enough already.

He drove to Frosty’s Donuts, a favorite of both truckers and cops since it was open twenty-four seven. They sat in a corner booth and placed orders with a teenaged boy with tats running up both arms from his wrists to the short sleeves of his black T-shirt.

“I’ll have a coffee and a maple bacon donut,” Wade said.

Joelle wrinkled her nose.

“Better than it sounds,” he assured her.

“Green tea and a pumpkin muffin for me, please.”

After their server left, Wade focused on Joelle. “What did you remember?”

“In my dream I was in a truck with a strange man. We were driving on windy mountain roads that were making me carsick.” Her eyes darted from him, to the table top, then to the view out the window.

Wade didn’t take his eyes off her face.

“Then I sat up in bed. I was awake. I touched my cheeks to make sure. But the dream didn’t stop, because it wasn’t a dream. I was remembering. "

His gut clenched so tight he couldn’t have handled even a sip from the glass of water in front of him. Sensing it would be a mistake to push, he waited for her to continue.

“The man in the truck—he was Chet Walker. He was chewing gum. Peppermint. He offered me some and I said no.”

Wade recalled seeing the blue package in the wreckage after the crash.

“He was talking. He’d been talking for a long time. I remember wishing he would just be quiet and let me rest.”

“Can you recall him picking you up? Where you were? Why you were hitchhiking?”

“No. It starts in the truck. I have nothing before then.”

“Okay.” He tried not to show his disappointment. “I’m sure it will come in time. Tell me more about what you do remember. Chet Walker offering you the gum and doing a lot of talking. Do you remember what he was talking about?”