exposed (Twisted Cedar Mysteries Book 3) (21 page)

Besides, she felt uneasy being away from the house for so long. Jamie and Cory had left an hour ago for their movie in Port Orford, and while Charlotte had forwarded her home phone number to her cell, she still didn’t like the idea of the house being vacant.

Yes it was a long shot, but what if Chester somehow managed to get free and was able to return home? She couldn’t bear the thought of him walking into an empty house.

It wasn’t that nice for her either. After a mad dash through the rain, she let herself in the back door, where she hung up her sodden jacket and left her soggy trainers on the mat to dry. She wandered through the kitchen, the family room, the study, feeling a deep melancholy for all who were gone.

She paused at the cabinet where family photos were displayed. Slowly she studied each photograph in turn, starting with her great-grandparents, and ending with last year’s school photos of Chester and Cory.

So few of the people in these photos were still alive. Just herself and the twins.

Dying before their time seemed to be a curse for the Hammonds. Charlotte knew from family records that both her great-grandparents and her grandparents had died in their sixties.

The next generation had been even worse. Shirley had died in her mid-forties, while Daisy hadn’t even reached thirty.

Charlotte’s parents had been well into middle age before they died in the car crash, but even that was at least ten years before their time.

Why so much pain and tragedy for one family?

On the surface, the Hammonds had historically had so much. For generations they’d been the leading family of Twisted Cedars, living in this beautiful ocean front home, and managing the local bank.

Charlotte had always been proud of her family’s tradition of giving back to the community. For decades her father had served as the Twisted Cedar mayor—forgoing any salary—and her Hammond great-great-grandmother was responsible for raising the funds and later operating, the town’s library.

Now all that was left of almost a century of tradition was one adopted daughter—herself—and Daisy’s two children.

Charlotte took the stairs slowly, taking the time to examine the framed photos her mother had hung above the railing. Every Christmas they’d had a photographer come to the house and take a family photograph and they were all here, starting from the first when Daisy was a newborn.

She’d been such a cute baby, an adorable toddler, and an exceptionally pretty little girl. In all the photographs she was held by her father, who was sitting in a chair, while her mother stood behind, with a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

Then Charlotte entered the scene and suddenly it was her mother holding the baby and sitting, while Daisy stood beside her dad, holding his hand.

Up the stairs Charlotte progressed, to the year she’d turned four when she and Daisy had both been deemed old enough to both stand. She in front of their mother, Daisy in front of their father.

This formation continued until the final photograph, taken the year before Daisy was married.

Charlotte was so familiar with these photographs that she rarely stopped to really look at them. But today, in her sad, lonely mood, she noticed the way Daisy had changed as the years progressed. Oh, her beauty had only intensified as she became a young woman. But the inner glow that had made her practically radiate vitality as a child seemed to turn into something hard and angry as the years went on.

Could it be that the mental illness that had marred her life after the birth of the twins had actually started much earlier?

Eventually Charlotte reached the landing to the second floor. Still chilled from the rain, she decided to have a shower. Turning the water hotter than usual, she closed her eyes and let her head rest back on the tiled wall.

Charlotte had never run a marathon. But if she had, she couldn’t imagine her body aching more than it did right now. Stress and lack of sleep were catching up with her big time. The pulsing water lulled her into a state of relaxation she hadn’t experienced for a very long time.

She was thinking of getting out, when the bathroom door opened, admitting a waft of cooler air...and Dougal.

“Hey Char. Mind if I join you?”

She cracked open the door for him—he was already out of his clothes. She wrapped her arms around him, shivering as his cool skin pressed against her much hotter body.

“God, this feels great,” he murmured, as he pulled her even closer.

They kissed, and she could taste the malt of the beer he’d just had combined with the essence that was simply Dougal, the man that she loved.

There was so much to talk about, but neither said a word as they continued to embrace under the pummeling water. When Dougal finally led her out of the shower she assumed they would towel off quickly and then make love.

But the second Dougal’s head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

Less than a minute later, lulled by the rain against the roof, and Dougal’s slow steady breathing, so was she.

* * *

Charlotte and Dougal slept a solid two hours before Jamie and Cory came home. Charlotte woke first, at the sound of the front door opening and closing. Gently she removed Dougal’s arm from her waist, hoping to slip out of bed without disturbing him. But his eyes opened.

“What’s up?”

“Jamie and Cory are back from their movie.” She glanced at the time. “They must have eaten dinner out as well.”

She dressed quickly in leggings and a long sweatshirt, then paused to look at him. He was sitting on the side of the bed, looking both incredibly sexy and terrifically sad.

“I wish we didn’t have to rush out of bed.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Me, too.” She went to him, dropping a kiss onto the top of his head. His dark curls were wild after the shower, soft and fresh-smelling. “You going to be okay?”

“Eventually. I suppose it’s too soon for the book to have gone live?”

“I’ve got my laptop downstairs. I’ll go check.” She’d left it by the back door, near the kitchen, and she found Jamie and Cory there, too, drinking glasses of water at the island.

As soon as she saw Charlotte, Cory came to give her a hug.

It was a tight, loving hug and Charlotte’s heart swelled. She brushed her niece’s hair softly from her face. “How was the movie?”

“It was funny.”

“And sweet,” Jamie added. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

“And you’ve eaten? If not, I could make some waffles.”

“We did have a burger after the movie. But I definitely have room for a dessert waffle. How about you, Cory?”

Cory nodded, then pulled on Charlotte’s hand. “Is the book done? Will my brother be coming home soon?”

Charlotte glanced at Jamie, who gave her a sheepish shrug. Obviously she’d explained to Cory what the deal was for Chester to be released.

“Dougal finished today, and I sent the book to someone who’s going to publish it on a bunch of Internet book sites. We’re hoping it will be ready today or tomorrow. It’s probably too soon now, but I’m going to check, anyway.”

“I can do that for you,” Jamie offered.

“Great. My laptop is in the travel case by the door.”

While Jamie pulled it out and waited for it to power up, Charlotte gathered ingredients for waffles.

“I’ve bookmarked the various platform sights,” Charlotte told Jamie. “I should still be logged in at all of them.”

“Got it,” Jamie said. “I’m checking the first one right now…” A moment later she sighed. “It says
still in process.
”

“It hasn’t been very long. They say it can take anywhere from twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

Cory groaned. “You mean we might have to wait two whole days?”

“I hope not sweetie.” This was said by Dougal, as he joined the group in the kitchen. “Anyone else hungry?”

“Aunt Charlotte is making waffles.”

“Awesome.”

For the next hour the four of them hung out in the kitchen, taking turns spooning the batter into the waffle maker. Charlotte put out the maple syrup and bowls of chocolate chips, pecans, and sliced bananas for toppings.

When Charlotte noticed Cory stifling a yawn, she suggested it was bed time and Cory didn’t even protest. Dougal offered to read some of the Tintin adventures to her, and he was back downstairs fifteen minutes later.

“She put up a valiant effort, but she’s fast asleep.”

“We’re all exhausted,” Jamie said. “Do you guys mind if I sleep over again?”

“We’d love it,” Charlotte said. “With any luck this will be our last night without Chester.”

At ten-thirty on Wednesday morning,
The Librarian Killer
went live on one of the Internet book websites. Within an hour, the book was available for sale on three others. Dougal watched over Charlotte’s shoulder as she opened the Report page for one of them and was amazed to see ten copies had already been sold.

“Okay. It’s real. It’s out there.” Dougal took out his phone and composed a message to Ed.

“The book is published. Already selling copies. Here’s the link.” He cut and pasted the link to the book page, then added, “Now live up to your end of the deal. We want Chester home and safe.”

“Did you send him the message?” Cory was sitting at the kitchen island, coloring in the states in a map of Mexico, working on homework that her friend Paige had dropped off early this morning. She was flanked by Jamie and Charlotte, both hovering protectively around her this morning.

“I just did,” Dougal assured her.

Earlier Charlotte had debated sending Cory back to school today. “Time might pass more quickly for her if she was in class with her friends.”

“Why don’t you ask her what she would prefer?” Dougal had asked.

“Please let me stay home,” had been Cory’s answer. And Charlotte agreed that she could.

They had explained the situation as best as they could to her, trying to minimalize the danger to her brother. Dougal did not share his own grave concerns about the day’s outcome. If the worst happened, they would deal with it then.

Dougal poured himself the last cup of coffee one-handed, as he kept an eye on his phone, waiting for Ed’s response.

He was still waiting for a response ten minutes later when Wade showed up at the back door.

Charlotte invited him in, telling him not to worry about his wet shoes. The rain was forecast to last until later that afternoon. Dougal didn’t view it as a positive omen.

Wade came up to him. “God the media out there is insane today. I’ve got Deputy Field making sure they all keep their distance. Any news from Ed?”

While Dougal gave him a progress report on the publication of the book and his subsequent message to Ed, Jamie got up to make a fresh pot of coffee.

“I think we’re going to need a lot of this today.” Jamie added water to the top of the fill line.

“I hope not,” Charlotte said softly.

Dougal put his arm around her shoulder, wishing he could offer her reassurance that everything was going to work out according to plan.

But the growing silence from Ed was worrying him.

About twenty minutes later, there was another knock at the back door, this time from Stella Ward, who’d arrived to do her regular housecleaning.

Dougal hoped Charlotte would send her on her way—the tension of waiting was making it very hard for him to be civil and the more people milling around, the harder it would be. But Charlotte being Charlotte, of course she didn’t do that. She invited Stella in with a caveat. “Don’t worry about cleaning today. Sit down and have a cup of coffee with us.”

Stella’s face relaxed with relief. “Oh thank you dear. It’s been a terrible week, in more ways than one.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jamie asked, offering Stella a stool at the island.

The older woman settled down with a deep, aggrieved sigh.

“Well, Chester missing. That’s been the worst, obviously. But when you add Liz’s unscheduled holiday—I’ve had to do almost double my usual work load this week.”

“Where did Liz go?” Charlotte asked.

“To Portland. To help a friend who needed emergency surgery.”

“Hang on,” Wade said, his gaze suddenly intense. “When did Liz go to Portland?”

Dougal turned to look at Wade. Why was he asking? Did he think Liz’s absence could be somehow connected to Chester’s?

Stella’s answer supported that theory.

“That’s easy to remember. She called the very same night our young man went missing. I remember trying to tell her about it, but she was very dismissive. Said something vague like,
well I hope he shows up soon.
And then it was like she couldn’t get off the phone fast enough.”

Wade’s jaw tightened. “We went door-to-door at the trailer park within twenty-four hours of Chester’s disappearance. I personally knocked on Liz’s door. She was home then.”

“But why would she lie?” Stella looked puzzled. “She’s never even called in sick for work before.”

“Good question. I’ll head over right now and ask her. By the way, you should expect more visits from the Feds today. Not sure when, just be prepared.”

Wade was almost at the door when Dougal stopped him.

“There’s something you should know about Liz, first. This summer she told Stella, Jamie and me a bit about her past. It turns out her father—who’s dead now—had done time in jail with Ed. Apparently the men were good buddies.”

“Oh my God, that’s right.” Jamie turned to look at Stella. “At your house that night, remember? Liz’s father told her Ed was quite the storyteller. He used to talk about Dougal a lot and brag about him being a bestselling author.”

“I wish to hell someone had told me this earlier.” Wade’s eyes narrowed as he considered the possibilities. “Do you know if Ed and Liz ever met?”

“I’m sorry, no I don’t. And I would have told you…but I only just remembered the connection now.”

“You don’t think Liz is actually
helping
Ed?” Charlotte sounded appalled.

“Oh, she wouldn’t.” Stella sounded confident. “She’s a bit intense, and doesn’t have a lot of social graces. But she’s a hard worker and an honest person. Not the sort to let anyone push her around, either.”