exposed (Twisted Cedar Mysteries Book 3) (17 page)

That sounded good to Dougal. The more brainpower on this the better.

“At least we had a break with Chester’s iPad.” Wade exchanged one sheet of paper for another. “The very evening after Cory saw her brother talk with the so-called football coach, Chester downloaded something called
WhatsApp
.”

“I’ve heard of it. It’s a messaging app.”

“Right. The techies were able to retrieve the messages and they’re sending me a transcript by email.” Wade turned to his desktop computer. “Looks like I got it. I’ll print it off.”

Less than a minute later Marnie came in with a sheet of paper.

“I assume you wanted this right away?”

As she passed the paper to Wade, their fingers touched, and then they exchanged a look.

Something had changed with these two.

The impression flashed in Dougal’s mind, then vanished as he focused on the more important issue before them.

Wade held out the paper so that they could both read it.

Football_Coach_007:
It was good to meet you today. Your dad was a great quarterback in his time. I have a feeling you’ll be just as good, if not better...

A few messages in this vein followed, as Football_Coach_007 worked to establish a rapport with the boy. He talked about some of the highlights from Kyle’s years on the high school team—details that must have been gleaned from archives of the local newspaper, which as far as Dougal knew, were only available at the Twisted Cedars Library.

Had Ed Lachlan actually gone into the library personally? Spoken to Charlotte directly?

He was such a master of disguise, and had so much ego, Dougal wouldn’t put it past him.

Eventually Ed worked the conversation around to the point where he said he’d like to toss a ball around with Chester sometime. Chester suggested they meet after school at the park. Ed countered with the idea that they could meet at the turn-off to the trailer park.

Chester:
I’m not supposed to cross the highway.

Football_Coach_007:
Just watch out for traffic. It’s not hard.

And so the trap had been sprung...

While Wade and Marnie hurriedly rewrote their official statement for the press conference scheduled for six o’clock, Dougal hurried over to Charlotte’s place, where Deputy Field was already updating her with the latest.

The intense relief Dougal had felt at knowing Chester was alive was quickly fading. He was keenly aware that his phone hadn’t buzzed with a single notification since Ed had terminated their last connection.

Dougal wasn’t the praying kind. But he sure hoped Ed wasn’t taking out his anger on Chester right now.

As he crossed the highway, he thought of Chester doing the same thing four days ago, on his way to meet the man he thought of as a football coach. Curious how Ed had suggested meeting by the trailer park.

It was where Dougal and Jamie had grown up, in a park model with two small bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, and a sitting area and kitchen in between. It had been cramped quarters but their mother had done her best to keep it tidy and make it feel like a real home.

For the six years before Jamie was born, Ed had lived there, too. Dougal had few memories of those days, though, and the ones he had—like the time his father had killed his cat—weren’t good.

After his father had split, Dougal had grown to hate living in the trailer park. He resented the lack of space and he especially hated the social stigma of being a trailer park kid. He’d been hard on his mother back then, something he regretted deeply now that she was gone. It was so unfair that she’d died of cancer so young. She’d deserved better from her life. In so many ways.

As he turned onto the walking path that led to Charlotte’s beachfront home, he wondered if other people were thinking the same about him and Charlotte. That she’d deserved far better.

He tended to agree.

Yet every time he tried to keep his distance—for her sake—his resolve would crack.

And now certainly wasn’t the time to make a break.

Dougal had to fight his way past the press that seemed to be permanently camped out on the street in front of the Hammond’s house. He threw out “No comments,” like he’d been born into royalty and had had to say such things every day of his life.

Finally he found Charlotte and Cory on the back porch eating the ultimate in comfort food, grilled cheese sandwiches. The air was still warm, but there were clouds mounting in the west. He hadn’t heard a weather report in some time, but it seemed they were in for a change.

He kissed the top of Cory’s head, then Charlotte’s lips. “Have you heard the news?”

“Deputy Field was just here. Chester is alive. That’s the main thing.” Charlotte glanced at Cory, and Dougal got the message.

“Alive and well,” he agreed. “It is a relief to know that.”

“But will that man let him go?” Cory asked.

“We hope so, honey. We have to pray that he will.”

“Amen,” Dougal agreed. Stealing a piece of Charlotte’s sandwich, he was amazed at how good it tasted. “Delicious. Is that brie?”

“With a bit of fig jam.”

“Mine is cheddar,” Cory said.

“I made more of both kinds,” Charlotte said. “In the kitchen.”

Dougal went to the kitchen as directed, then came back with two sandwiches, a wine glass, and the open bottle of white he’d found in the fridge. After topping Charlotte’s glass, he filled his own, then settled on the chair to Charlotte’s left.

“So what have you ladies been up to today?”

“We played catch on the beach. Then Paige came over for a while and we played dress up.”

“My mom had a trunk full of dresses and stoles that belonged to her mother. They’re really too exquisite to play with...but we couldn’t resist, could we Cory?”

“They were so pretty. Paige wanted to take her dress home, but it’s an earloom, so she couldn’t.”

“Heirloom,” Charlotte corrected. Carefully she asked Dougal, “And how was
your
day?”

“Eventful.” He glanced at Cory. He wanted to tell Charlotte everything. But he wasn’t sure how much Cory ought to hear.

Fortunately once she finished her sandwich, Cory was immediately bored. “Can I go play computer games on my iPad?”

Charlotte patted her niece’s arm. “Sure you can, honey.”

Once they were alone, she turned to him. “Tell me what happened.”

He nodded. “I lost it when I was video chatting with Ed today. He was gloating about how it felt to murder someone—”

Charlotte gasped.

“Yeah.” Dougal shook his head. “I was doing okay and then I just snapped. I told him I’d had it, that I was done. And wouldn’t you know it, he left the room then came back with Chester. I actually saw him, Charlotte. Alive and well.”

Charlotte put a hand on his knee and squeezed. Hard. “Are you sure he was okay?”

“Yes. He looked fine. He was really tired but he recognized me right away. He said my name and then he was asking me to help him when the screen just went…dark.”

“Oh, God...”

Dougal pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I hate that my father has him. But at least we know he didn’t suffer an accident. Or get swept out to sea.”

Charlotte swiped away a few tears. “Yes. He’s alive. We have to hold onto that.”

Dougal swallowed and looked away. There was too much hope in Charlotte’s eyes for him to face right now.

Yes, Chester was fine now. But when had Ed Lachlan ever shown mercy to one of his victims?

* * *

It worried Charlotte that not once that evening did Dougal receive a summons from his father to resume working on the book. Had Ed Lachlan taken Dougal at face value when he’d said he’d had enough?

If so, what would that mean for Chester?

For the first time since her brother’s disappearance, Cory decided to go to sleep in her own room.

“Will you tuck me in?”

“Of course.” Charlotte got up from the sofa where they’d all just finished watching an episode of
Big Bang Theory
.

“You too?” Cory asked Dougal shyly.

Though clearly surprised, he jumped to his feet. “You bet.”

Cory chose the Tintin adventure,
The Crab With The Golden Claws
, for her bedtime story, and Charlotte read the Tintin parts, while Dougal covered all the other roles.

After thirty minutes, Cory’s eyelids finally fluttered closed.

With a gentle touch Charlotte stroked her niece’s hair, then brushed her hand lightly over the tiny crease on her forehead. “Sleep tight sweetheart.” As she glanced at Dougal she was touched to see a tear in his eye.

He blinked it away with a rueful shrug. “She’s a sweet kid.”

After leaving the door ajar and the hall light on, Charlotte and Dougal retired to her bedroom. Dougal undressed her slowly, and she felt the oddest combination of arousal and sadness.

They made love solemnly, and Charlotte only managed to forget her troubles in the final, trembling, ecstatic moments of climax.

Breathless she collapsed onto Dougal, loving how safe she felt as he wrapped his arms around her. Pressing her ear against his warm chest, she listened to the thudding of his heart, surely the most reassuring sound in the world, not unlike the lulling rhythm of the surf, which she could also hear through the open window.

She hoped she would drop off to sleep, and she did, only to be jolted awake a few hours later with a familiar feeling of dread. She rolled away from Dougal and glanced at the clock. Eight minutes after three.

The wind had picked up since they’d gone to bed and her curtains were dancing wildly in the breeze. A glance at Dougal confirmed he was still asleep.

Quietly she crept out of bed, pulled on a nightgown and then went to check on Cory. The little girl was deeply asleep, oblivious to the noise of the wind. Charlotte closed and latched her window and returned to her own bedroom.

She found Dougal reaching for his phone, which he’d left on the nightstand.

She read his disappointed expression with concern. “He hasn’t emailed?”

“No.”

The ball of dread in her gut grew bigger, but she crawled under the covers and when Dougal put his arm around her waist, allowed herself to be drawn back into him. How could his touch make her feel so warm and secure, even at a time like this?

She didn’t know the answer, but she was grateful for his presence.

And couldn’t help wondering about Chester. His nights had to be filled with loneliness and fear.

She listened to the sound of Dougal’s breath, waiting for the moment when he’d fallen back to sleep. Meanwhile she watched the minutes accumulate on the clock. When the display read 3:48 she whispered, “Awake?”

“Yeah.”

“I forgot to tell you something. On Friday Jamie and I went through our old photo albums. We were looking for clues as to who might have been Ed’s father.”

Dougal’s body tensed and she rolled over to face him.

“I’ve wondered about that too,” he said. “Did you find anything?”

“If Shirley dated, there weren’t any photos of her boyfriends. All we found was one picture of her with her prom date. But she’d had the baby years earlier, so that didn’t help much.”

“Who was her date?”

Charlotte told him about Sam Lemwick. “I wish he had been the father, but he laughed at the very idea. They only had the one date and I doubt if Sam did much more than hold Shirley’s hand while her father took their picture.”

“I asked Ed once about his biological father. He told me to be patient.”

“So you think he
knows
who it was?”

“Maybe. Or he could have been messing with me.”

“We could try questioning some of Shirley’s other classmates.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure it matters much at this point.” Dougal flopped onto his back. “I wish the bastard would email me. He’s probably delaying just to torture me.”

“But he will call eventually, right? I mean, he’s gone to a lot of trouble to get you to write this book. He won’t abandon the project easily.”

“That’s what I’m counting on...”

But his phone remained silent.

After staring at the ceiling for another twenty minutes, they gave up on the idea of sleep and went downstairs. Dougal made them hot tea with a generous addition of almond and orange liquors and they settled on the outdoor chaise lounge, sharing both the wide chair and a blanket. The salty air and crashing waves grounded Charlotte, reminding her that some things in this world could still be counted on.

They sipped at their tea until it was gone, then pointed out familiar constellations as they peeked out from the shifting clouds.

“I just realized, this is the longest I’ve ever gone without reading a novel.”

“You mean the four days Chester’s been missing?” Dougal asked sleepily.

“Yes. With so much empty time on my hands, I’ve tried several times to get into a book. But not even my favorite Jane Austens are working. I pick up a book and I can’t get past even one paragraph.”

“Tintin excepted.”

She jabbed her elbow lightly against his side. “That was for Cory.”

“I was teasing.” He sighed. “I know what you mean. The fear is too big. You can’t push it aside.”

“Exactly. Even when we were watching Big Bang, my stomach was twisting and churning so much I could hardly stand it.”

Dougal put his hand over her belly. “Does it hurt most right here?”

“Yes.” She took his other hand and placed it over her heart. “And here.”

And then, at just that moment, Dougal’s phone, resting on a nearby table, chimed.

Charlotte scooted to the edge of the seat, clutching the blanket tightly around her. “Is it him?”

“Yes.”

Wednesday April 7, 1976, Twisted Cedars Library, Oregon

The library basement smelled like sawdust and old books. Shirley was frightened, but also furious. The minute he removed his hand from her mouth, she spit out the words that had been screaming inside her head.

“You killed her!”

Ed Lachlan smiled. “Which ‘her’ are you referring to Mother, dear?”

Fear became terror as the import hit her. She backed away from this man—she would never again think of him as a boy—until she was stopped by the new bookshelves Amos Ward had installed last week.