Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) (30 page)
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Authors: C. J. Carmichael
Tags: #General Fiction
Olivia’s green eyes widened. “Oh, in that case I would have
called
you.
Immediately
.”
Yes. She’d been afraid of that.
“Why don’t you come inside, Charlotte? I’ll go unlock the door.”
It was the principal speaking now, Gabrielle Hodges, an athletic, somewhat masculine looking woman in her late fifties. She’d been the fourth grade teacher back when Charlotte was a student.
“I have to keep looking for Chester.”
“We’ll do a full search here,” Gabrielle assured her, “Just to make sure he isn’t hiding anywhere.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte’s glanced back at Ashley. “Can you think of any incident that came up today, something involving Chester, that might help explain where he’s gone?”
Ashley’s brow furrowed as she rubbed the side of her face. “He seemed...troubled. But that’s not unusual.”
No, sadly, it was not.
“I don’t want to alarm you,” Gabrielle said. “He’s probably gone to a friend’s house or something. But I’m going to call 911.”
Adrenaline buzzed through Charlotte’s system and her stomach tightened like she’d been sucker punched. Alerting the authorities elevated the situation and possibilities that had seemed remote at first, possibilities like abduction or worse, could no longer be pushed to the back of her mind.
For what felt like the hundredth time she glanced at her watch. Chester had now been missing for almost one hour.
“Yes. Call 911.”
“And I’ll get out my class list and phone all the parents,” Olivia offered.
“Thank you.” There was hardly anyone left in the staff room now, as teachers fanned out to search for the missing boy, and Gabrielle and Olivia went to make their calls.
Charlotte jogged back to the sidewalk, trying to decide what to do next.
Though it was a possibility that had to be crossed off the list, she didn’t think they’d find Chester hiding on school property. She supposed she could drive up and down the main streets of town in the hopes of spotting him or his bike.
Then inspiration struck. Maybe Chester had gone to see his grandfather, Jim Quinpool. For a few years—before they divorced and Muriel moved away—Kyle’s parents had lived with him and the twins. If Chester was upset, his grandfather was an obvious person to run to.
As she hurried back to her car, she called Jim. The phone rang and rang on the other end, but there was no answer. That didn’t mean Jim wasn’t home. He’d wanted custody of the twins after his son went to prison, and he’d been ticked off when the court appointed her, instead. Possibly he’d seen her name on call display and refused to answer out of spite.
So she’d just have to go flush him out. On the drive to Jim’s place—he now lived in an apartment above the realtor business he’d once run with Kyle—she tried Wade McKay, the Curry County Sheriff and a personal friend.
The 911 call would be routed through his office. But she wanted to speak to him personally.
Wade answered after the first ring.
“Charlotte. We just got the call from Gabrielle Hodges. Where are you?”
“In my car, on my way to J-Jim’s place.” She swallowed. At the first sound of Wade’s voice, she’d had a sudden urge to cry.
But she couldn’t break down now. She had to be strong and hope for the best. That she would find Chester soon and he’d be fine.
“I’ve already checked the Twisted Cedars Park and the beach. Chester’s teacher is calling everyone in his class and the rest of the staff are searching the school.”
“That’s good. Drive carefully Charlotte. Try to stay calm. I’m sending out every available vehicle to comb this town. Chances are good we’ll find him in the next half an hour or so.”
“He rode his bike to school today, Wade. He could—he might be miles away by now.”
“A boy on his bike outside of town limits is sure to attract notice. We’ll find him Charlotte.”
Even as he said that, Charlotte passed a black and white SUV with “Sheriff Curry County” stenciled on the side panel. The driver, Deputy Dunne, gave her a wave and a nod, as if to say, “Don’t worry ma’am. We’re on this.”
Before Dougal moved back to Twisted Cedars, she and Wade had dated. He’d even asked her to marry him once—though she was pretty sure he hadn’t loved her at the time. For sure he didn’t love her now. But she was grateful he wasn’t the sort of man to hold a grudge.
“Thanks Wade. I just—Thank you.”
“Of course. Keep in touch. Let me know what happens at Jim’s.”
Charlotte ended the call, but kept a tight hold on her phone.
Please ring. Please be Nola, saying Chester had finally shown up. Or Olivia, saying Chester was fine, he’d gone home with a school friend...
But her phone remained silent.
She wished desperately that she had a way to reach Chester directly. The twins owned iPads which they weren’t allowed to bring to school. But they didn’t have phones. Their father had said they had to wait until they turned thirteen—a rule that had seemed reasonable to Charlotte, once.
Now she swore that as soon as they found Chester, she would go out and get them, not just phones, but possibly GPS tracking devises she’d strap to their ankles.
Charlotte turned onto Driftwood Lane, the town’s main drag, grateful that August was over and there was plenty of available parking. She was able to pull into a space right outside Quinpool Realty. The business was closed. It had been since Kyle’s arrest.
She rushed out of her car, glancing around, hoping to see, if not Chester, then at least his bike. But neither one was in sight. Maybe he’d locked his bike up in the back. She opened the door to the left of the glass door to Quinpool Realty, and then climbed up a narrow, steep flight of stairs to the upper apartment.
With each step her heart seemed to thump harder. Sweat rose on her hands, filming slickly against the phone and keys she was carrying. She put both into her pockets, then rubbed her palms on the light wool blend of her skirt.
At the top of the stairs was a small landing and a wooden door with a peep hole and a slot for mail. She listened, straining for the sound of Chester’s voice within, but all she could hear was the faint drone of a television.
She rapped on the door, waiting less than ten seconds before repeating.
“Jim?” she called out. “It’s Charlotte. I’m looking for Chester.”
Finally he opened. Behind him was a dimly lit room with a sofa and television. The room had a foul, stale, alcoholic odor. And so did Jim.
He looked rough. Unshaven, clothes rumpled as if he’d slept in them—for more than one night, hair that had gone too long without a wash, or a cut. Considering he’d once been one of the better dressed men in town, it was a long fall.
The man obviously needed help, but she couldn’t worry about that right now.
“Is Chester here?” She scanned the room as she asked this. When she tried to step forward, Jim blocked her.
“No, he isn’t. What the hell is going on?”
Charlotte stared at him, not knowing what to say. She would have given anything to see her nephew sitting on that disgusting couch, eating junk food and watching sit-com reruns with his grandfather.
But he wasn’t here.
He wasn’t at Nola’s, or at home, or the school or the park or any of the normal places he liked to hang out.
So where was he?
Charlotte’s mind went blank as a terrible fear took grip of her body and soul.
Dougal had warned her that the horror that had gripped their town the past few months wasn’t over. Kyle Quinpool may have been arrested. Her sister’s death was being avenged. But there was a bigger evil lurking in Twisted Cedars.
She didn’t want to believe it. But it seemed there was a very good chance Chester’s disappearance was linked to that.
End of excerpt –
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I’d like to thank the people who helped me with this novel, my editor Linda Style, formatter Meredith Bond, proofreader Toni Hyatt, and cover designer Frauke Spanuth from CrocoDesigns.
For help with my research, I am indebted to Deputy George Simpson, as well as friends Sue and Greg McCormick who introduced me to the Deputy, as well as shared impressions and memories of their years living in Oregon. Thank you also to District Attorney Everett Dial who patiently answered many questions from me over the phone.
I’m very grateful to the friends and family members who have read preliminary copies of my Twisted Cedars Mysteries and provided much needed feedback: Mike Fitzpatrick, Kathy Eliuk, Voula Cocolakis, Lorelle Binnion, Susan Lee, Brenda Collins, Donna Tunney...thank you all!
USA Today Bestselling author C. J. Carmichael has written over 45 novels in her favorite genres of romance and mystery. She has been nominated twice for the Romance Writers of America RITA Award, as well as RT Bookclub’s Career Achievement in Romantic Suspense award, and the Bookseller’s Best honor. Visit her on her
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She gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double entry book-keeping in 1998 when she sold her first book to Harlequin Superromance. Since then she has published over 35 novels with Harlequin and is currently working on a series of western romances with Tule Publishing. In addition C. J. Carmichael has published several cozy mystery series as an Indie author.
When not writing C. J. enjoys family time with her grown daughters and her husband. Family dinners are great. Even better are the times they spend hiking in the Rocky Mountains around their home in Calgary, and relaxing at their cottage on Flathead Lake, Montana.
Visit C.J.'s website at
http://CJCarmichael.com.
Previous Novels by C.J. Carmichael
Carrigans of the Circle C
(western drama and romance)
Promise Me, Cowboy
(story 1)
Good Together
(story 2)
Close To Her Heart
(story 3)
Snowbound in Montana
(story 4)
A Cowgirl’s Christmas
(story 5)
Family Matters
(family drama and romance)
A Daughter’s Place
(story 1)
Her Best Friend’s Baby
(story 2)
The Fourth Child
(story 3)
Twisted Cedars Mysteries
buried
(book 1)
forgotten
(book 2)
exposed
(book 3)
For C. J. Carmichael’s complete backlist, please visit her website:
http://cjcarmichael.com
Table of Contents
other twisted cedars mysteries
book 2: twisted cedars mysteries
