exposed (Twisted Cedar Mysteries Book 3) (14 page)

An image of Cory’s sad little face that last time he’d seen her, flashed through Wade’s mind, followed by intense grief, mixed with anger. He struggled to tamp down the emotions, to remain focused and logical. “You’re sure Cory was in class?”

“Her teacher, Olivia Young, insists she spoke to Cory just minutes before the final bell sounded. She’d noticed Cory seemed especially distraught that afternoon, and she’d asked if Cory wanted to talk about anything.”

Immediately questions came to mind, but Wade shelved them for the moment. This first hour was crucial. “We need to get right on this. Immediately.”

“Done, Sheriff. Deputy Dunne is at the school right now supervising a search of the school, and questioning the other students and teachers. Carter’s patrolling the area and Field’s going door-to-door in the neighborhood around the school.” Marnie’s voice dipped lower. “Should I put out an Amber Alert and notify the media?”

Wade hesitated. “I’d hold off for thirty minutes. Has anyone questioned Cory’s friend, Paige?”

“I imagine Dunne is doing that right now.”

“Okay. Good.” Wade thought about Charlotte, how frantic she must be. But in his gut Wade didn’t believe Cory had been abducted by the same person who’d taken Chester.

For one thing, security at the school was tighter than ever since Cory’s brother’s disappearance. It would be very difficult for any attempted kidnapper to gain access to Cory when she was attending class. All the school exits were locked from the outside, except the main door, and the school secretary was policing that.

If the teacher had indeed spoken to Cory just before the bell rang, and if Cory hadn’t been among the students leaving the main exit at three-thirty, the most likely option was that she had slipped out one of the back doors, which were not locked from the outside, obviously, due to fire safety rules.

Wade tried to put himself into Cory’s shoes. Clearly she was worried sick about her brother. Chester had told her he wanted to run away—maybe she had a secret idea where he might be and had gone to check it out.

Wade could think of one, obvious, spot she might go.

The Quinpool’s home on Fifth Street was about five long blocks from school. The pretty, two-story Victorian had been vacant since Kyle was arrested in late July. The home had been extensively searched several times over since Chester’s disappearance, but Cory wouldn’t know that.

Since Jim Quinpool had the keys, Wade called him and arranged to pick him up out front of his apartment on Driftwood Lane.

Sixty seconds after he terminated the call, Wade arrived and found Jim, unwashed and unshaven, standing none too steadily on the curb.

It was difficult to believe that just five years ago this man had been one of the pillars of the Twisted Cedars business establishment.

Not only could Jim pass for a homeless man in appearance, he also smelled like one as he climbed into the passenger side of Wade’s SUV.

Wade unrolled his window and waited for the man to buckle up before he started driving.

“I can’t believe Cory’s gone now, too,” Jim muttered. “Since you were elected sheriff this town’s sure gone to hell.”

“That’s a fine observation from a man whose son is currently locked up for homicide. Especially if that son is serving time for a crime that you committed.”

Wade glanced at Jim’s face, which seemed to freeze for a few seconds before he shot back a retort of his own.

“Goddam it man. Would you stop barking up that tree and concentrate on finding my grandkids?”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Wade replied calmly.

Jim said nothing after that and less than a minute later they arrived at the attractive two-story clapboard that had been the Quinpool’s home for as long as Wade could remember. As kids he, Dougal and Daisy had visited here often. Muriel Quinpool had given them the run of the basement. She hadn’t been the sort of mother to check up on them on the guise of bringing them cookies, or to question them excessively on their way in or out of the place.

They both got out of the SUV and stood on the sidewalk a moment, examining the home. While the lawn had been recently mowed and the flowerbeds were free of weeds, it still had a deserted feel to Wade.

“You keeping up the place?”

“I hired a kid down the street.”

That figured. Jim wasn’t the type to soil his own hands with manual labor. Wade tried the door to make sure it was still locked, then held out his hand for the keys.

“Just a minute.” Jim started walking around to the back yard, and after a moment Wade followed. Once there, Jim checked the garden shed and then looked up into the branches of the tall oak trees.

“Those kids love climbing trees,” he explained.

Wade looked too. “Well, no one’s up there right now.”

“Let me check one last thing.” Jim went to the back deck and picked up a decorative concrete rabbit. Upon close inspection, Wade saw it had been constructed with a hidden compartment in the base. Jim opened it up, then showed him.

It was empty.

“Spare key is gone,” Jim said.

“Does the kid you hired to do the lawns know about the hidden key?”

“Nope. Kyle put that key there for the twins, in case they ever locked themselves out.”

Wade could feel the band of pressure around his chest loosen. “Let’s look inside.”

Jim unlocked the back door which led to the kitchen. The room was spotless, except for an open package of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. Wade took a closer look. The entire first row of cookies was missing.

“Cory? This is Sheriff MacKay. I’m here with your grandpa. Everyone is really worried about you.”

“Come out honey,” Jim added. “You won’t be in any trouble. We just want to know you’re safe.”

No answer.

Wade glanced at Jim. “I’ll check the main floor and upstairs. You take the garage and the basement.”

After a quick nod, Jim headed for the stairs, calling out his granddaughter’s name one more time, as well as more assurances that she shouldn’t be afraid.

Wade made quick work of the living and dining areas, the front entry, powder room and study. Then he headed upstairs and worked his way through the rooms along the main landing. First was the master bedroom with ensuite bathroom and walk in closet.

Next, judging by the pastel color scheme and the few books and stuffed animals that had been left behind, was Cory’s room. Wade had been almost certain he would find the little girl here, but everything was immaculate. Even the covers on the bed looked freshly ironed. Still Wade searched every possible nook and cranny two times over before giving up and moving on to Chester’s room.

Football posters covered the walls in this room, which was also tidy, but unlike Cory’s room, the bed covers were rumpled and Wade spotted cookie crumbs on the carpet.

He didn’t bother looking further.

“Hey Cory. Did you come here looking for your brother?”

After about thirty seconds her head popped out from under the bed. “Yeah. But he isn’t here.”

Wednesday April 7, 1976, Twisted Cedars Library, Oregon

It was five minutes before closing and the library was deserted when Shirley decided to call a colleague from Medford she’d met during the annual conference. Isabel Fraser was an impressive librarian in her mid-forties who’d given a talk on the impact computers were going to have on the modern library. When Shirley had expressed a special interest in the subject Isabel had invited her to call so they could talk further, after the bustle of the conference was over.

Shirley was looking forward to becoming better acquainted with Isabel and to learning more about the future for her profession. As much as Shirley was a fan of tradition, she also loved being on the cutting edge of new technologies. Anything that encouraged more reading and distribution of knowledge, was a plus in her book.

She was disappointed when Isabel didn’t pick up her phone, and the call was routed back to the switchboard.

“Medford Public Library. Terri speaking. May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Shirley Hammond from the Twisted Cedars Library. I was hoping to talk to Isabel Fraser. We met at the conference two weeks ago.”

There was a long silence, and then the woman on the other end of the line said, “I’m sorry, but we’ve had a terrible tragedy here. I’m afraid Isabel has...passed away.”

Shirley could make no sense of that. “But she wasn’t that old. And she certainly didn’t seem sick. Was it an accident?”

“No.” The woman made a sound that might have been a gulp. “Isabel was murdered. Here. In the library basement. The police figure she died shortly after we closed for the night.”

Shirley stared at the book stacks around her, feeling suddenly vulnerable. She was pretty sure she was alone in here—wasn’t she? She got up and locked the front door. “How did it happen?”

“I’m sorry. It’s pretty gruesome. Are you sure you want to hear?”

“I think I must.”

“Isabel was strangled. Of all things by a red silk scarf. Nothing was stolen. And Isabel wasn’t...defiled. No one has any idea what the motive could have been.”

Shirley’s heart almost stopped at the mention of a red silk scarf.

Could it be hers, one of the ones that had gone missing?

No. This had to be a coincidence.

Suddenly she thought of the snow globe.

Such a silly trinket. Why would he go to all that trouble to deliver it to her...unless, maybe it had never been intended as souvenirs of her conferences but of something much darker.

“I—I have to go.” The woman on the other line—Terri—had started speaking again, but Shirley hung up the phone anyway.

She went back to her desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. Inside was her purse as well as a large manila envelope containing contributions for the Library Improvement Fund. She removed her purse, but left the envelope where it was.

She had to go home and think.

But then she heard a rustling sound from the mystery section. A chill tingled up her spine and over her scalp... She considered turning and running for the door. But that would be cowardly. And she was anything but a coward.

“Who’s there?”

For a long time there was no answer. Tentatively she took a few forward steps. “The library’s closed now. It’s time for you to leave.”

Still no answer. Had she imagined the noise? Perhaps the shocking news about Isabel Fraser had unhinged her.

Deciding she had to look or she’d spend the entire night worrying, Shirley made herself stride purposefully down to the end of one aisle, then across the back of the room to the mystery section. She was almost at the far wall, where a door led to the basement, when someone grabbed her from behind, one arm clasping her waist tightly, the other blocking her mouth and nose.

“We meet again—” said a familiar voice, “—Mother.”

* * *

Charlotte couldn’t stop hugging her niece any more than she could stop the happy tears streaming down her face.

“Thank you so much, Wade.” She pressed her cheek to the top of Cory’s head, so reassured that her niece was safe and home again.

“Happy to do my job,” Wade replied.

Charlotte could see the worry still etched on his forehead. Not for a moment had he forgotten that there was still a child missing.

Cory eased out of her aunt’s embrace, then mumbled, “I’m sorry for running away after school.”

“It’s okay.” Charlotte gave her another hug. “It was a smart idea to check your house for Chester. But next time you have another smart idea like that, tell me and we’ll look together.”

“I thought maybe he was hiding from everyone else, but he would come out for me.”

“He probably would come out for you. We just have to find the right hiding spot.” Wade had told her that his deputies were fanning out from town, searching all the deserted cottage homes in an ever widening radius from town. Charlotte wanted to believe that her nephew was a simple runaway, that the nice weather, and his good fortune in happening upon a well-stocked, unoccupied cottage was the reason he’d been gone so long.

There were stretches of time—some as long as ten minutes—where she managed to convince herself.

Once Wade was gone, Charlotte offered to order in pizza for dinner. To her surprise Cory seemed unenthused.

“My stomach hurts. I think I ate too many cookies.”

Wade had explained about the cookies and how they’d given Cory away, so Charlotte didn’t begrudge her niece a single one.

“When I’ve had too much junk food I like to have a drink of water then brush my teeth. Want to try that?”

Cory nodded.

Charlotte poured her a glass of water, which Cory downed quickly before heading upstairs to brush her teeth. Charlotte took the opportunity to call Bailey and explain what had happened.

“The sheriff found Cory at her old house. She’d run there hoping to find her brother. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience and worry she caused you.”

“That’s no problem. I’m just relieved to hear she’s safe.”

She and every other parent in Twisted Cedars, Charlotte was sure. When Cory had first been reported missing probably everyone had been worried there was a serial kidnapper on the loose.

Shortly after her conversation with Bailey, Dougal called.

“Charlotte, is Cory okay?” He sounded breathless. “I was in a chat room with Ed when she first went missing so I didn’t hear about it until now.”

“Wade brought her home, safe and sound, twenty minutes ago.” Charlotte ran through the explanation again.

“You must feel like you’ve been through hell and back.”

“I’m still in hell,” she reminded him. Chester had been missing now for three entire days and two nights.

“And I know you are too,” she added. “How did your last session with Ed go?”

“Brutal. He’s such a bastard. He’s getting a perverse thrill out of telling me his story and it makes me crazy knowing how happy he’ll be when the story is out there for everyone to read.”