exposed (Twisted Cedar Mysteries Book 3) (5 page)

But she was also a distraction in the office. Cute, with a round face and large eyes the color of the Rogue River during spring run-off. Wade often spotted his male staff workers buzzing around her desk, especially forty-year-old Dunne, who had to be at least fifteen years too old for her.

He knew resenting Marnie for her attractiveness was wrong of him. Sexist, politically incorrect, and all of that. But sometimes it was hard to concentrate around her.

Not today, however. The issue at hand was simply too big.

“Give me an update,” he asked, as he took the chair at the head of the table and opened the laptop Marnie had already placed there.

“Here’s what I put together for the Amber Alert and our Endangered Missing Advisory.” She passed him a sheet of paper describing Chester, his clothing and his last known location. Also included were several of the photos Charlotte had sent them from her phone, all of which showed a young boy with sandy hair, a snub nose, mouth set in a serious expression, and sad blue eyes.

Wade turned back to the laptop, tapped on his email icon. Earlier he’d asked Jamie to send him any pictures she had of Chester. And she had.

He opened the attachment on her message, then waved for Marnie to take a look.

“These predate Chester’s father’s arrest.”

“He looked a lot happier back then,” Marnie commented.

“Yeah.”

“So what’s the theory? You think he’s so upset about his dad that he ran away?”

“That’s what he told his sister he was planning to do. But it’s also possible he was the victim of an accident…or homicide.”

Normally the parents or legal guardians were top suspects when it came to the murder of a child. With Chester’s mother dead and his father in prison, that pointed the needle of suspicion directly to Charlotte.

Wade knew he had to remain open to the possibility, even though he personally considered it preposterous.

“And then there’s the possibility he was abducted.”

“Any suspects there?”

“So far—none. We’ve checked with the grandfather, who wanted custody of the twins when Kyle went to jail. But we found him drunk and alone in his apartment. And when the state police dropped in on the grandmother in Sacramento they found her alone and befuddled at the idea her grandson was missing.”

“So no real suspects for an abduction.”

Wade didn’t answer. He couldn’t help recalling a conversation he’d had with Dougal Lachlan last month. Dougal thought his father, Ed Lachlan, was responsible for killing Joelle Carruthers and her baby daughter. Back then Wade had considered Dougal’s theory far-fetched.

But what if it was true?

Could Ed Lachlan still be in Twisted Cedars?

At quarter to midnight Charlotte, Dougal, and Jamie were still on vigil in the Hammond’s kitchen. The crime scene techs had left around ten o’clock and shortly after that Cory had zonked out on the window seat, along with Borden and the stuffed orca Chester had given her last Christmas.

The twins’ bedroom was still off limits, but even if it hadn’t been, Cory wasn’t ready to be alone, and Charlotte didn’t really want her out of sight anyway.

Several hours ago Stella Ward, the Hammond’s longtime housecleaner, who had worked with Jamie and Dougal’s mom, Katie, for many decades, had stopped by with a tuna noodle casserole. It was half eaten, congealing on the counter next to the microwave. Charlotte supposed she should put the leftovers in the fridge.

But it seemed too much effort.

Everything seemed too much effort now.

All she could do was stare at her phone, praying for a call, a text or an e-mail. Every gust of wind from outside had her running to the door.

Please come home.

“This is the worst,” Jamie moaned. “I wish there was something we could do. Anyone else want coffee?” Without waiting for an answer she went to make a fresh pot.

Dougal said nothing, just squeezed Charlotte’s hand. She knew he’d rather be out in the woods helping in the search, but according to Deputy Field, who would be checking in periodically with them throughout the night, there was no shortage of volunteers, and so Charlotte had asked him to stay here, with her and Cory.

This was her fault. She’d known Chester was troubled, that he was getting taunted at school. If she’d quit her job and home-schooled the twins instead, maybe he would still be here.

“Coffee’s ready,” Jamie announced presently. “Should I take a cup to Deputy Field?”

“She’s outside right now,” Dougal said. “She’ll probably be back soon.”

It should have helped to know that many people were working very hard to find Chester. But it was so late. And there were so many natural hazards in this town. Every minute Chester remained missing, it seemed increasingly likely that something extremely bad had happened to him.

After filling all their mugs with the fresh coffee, Jamie reached for one of the remaining photos on the fridge. It had been taken of the twins at Wolf Camp this summer and Chester looked, if not happy, at least a little less miserable than normal.

“When I first started dating Kyle, Cory was immediately very friendly and accepting. Chester, not so much.”

“He’s much more reserved than his sister,” Charlotte noted. She’d had the same problem with her nephew when he and Cory had first moved in with her at the end of July.

“The secret with Chester is to tap into his obsession with football.” Jamie nudged her brother’s chair with her foot. “Thanks to you teaching me how to throw a football when we were kids, I was able to impress Chester with my perfect spiral.”

“So you bonded over football? That’s rich.” Dougal smiled faintly.

“Hey, I was desperate.”

“I sympathize. Since Kyle and I didn’t exactly get along, I was practically a stranger to the twins when they moved in here. They were so quiet at first, it was awful. Then I decided to show them photographs of their mother growing up and that was an ice-breaker.”

Remembering what had happened later that evening, Charlotte smiled. “When I tucked them in that night, Chester told me he was too old for a kiss. But after about a half an hour he crept downstairs and said he supposed he wasn’t too old for a hug.”

“Ah, that’s so sweet,” Jamie said. “Those poor kids. Kyle going to prison has been so hard on them. And of course they lost their mother when they were so young.”

“Thanks to Daisy’s postpartum depression or psychosis, or whatever it was, I’m not sure they ever knew what it was like to have a real mother.” Charlotte glanced toward the vacant spot by the sink. Even two years after the car accident that had claimed her parents’ lives, it was easy to picture her own mother standing there, always occupied with one task or another, but never too busy to pay attention to her children.

She’d been so lucky to be adopted by the Hammonds. Her mother had never made her feel anything but wanted and loved, unlike the older sister for whom she’d been expected to be a playmate.

Mostly Daisy had treated her like a pest, competition for the spotlight that she had so craved. One of Charlotte’s deepest regrets was that her sister hadn’t lived long enough for them to get over their childhood rivalries and develop a real sisterly bond.

Dougal pushed away from his chair. “I can’t sit anymore. I’m going outside to see how Deputy Field is doing.”

Charlotte empathized. She was sick of sitting around, too. But Wade had explained that for as long as Chester was missing, she should try to stick close to the house in case he showed up, or called the land line.

Charlotte had immediately forwarded the land line to her cell, but she couldn’t stand the idea that Chester might make his way home to find the house empty.

So she’d agreed with Wade that she would wait here, for as long as it took.

She’d already called Zoey and explained that the library would remain closed for the time being. For once Zoey hadn’t had a word of advice to offer when she heard Chester was missing. She’d actually been quite sympathetic and offered to help with anything Charlotte needed.

But no one could help with what she really needed.

Chester to come home.

Restlessly Charlotte went to the window where Cory was sleeping and gazed into the night. Instead her own reflection stared back at her.

“God damnit!” It killed her to know Chester was out there somewhere and she couldn’t help him.

“It’s torture, isn’t it?” Jamie poured the remains of her coffee into the sink. “I just hope he’s okay. That, wherever he is, he isn’t...”

“Stop. Please.” She couldn’t stand to hear any of her worst fears put into words.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I know this is just as hard on you.” Charlotte left the window and moved to the sink, turning on the hot water and adding a squeeze of dish soap. If she was busy, maybe she could block the terrible worst-case scenarios from popping into her head.

“Do you want me to put the rest of the casserole in a smaller container?” Jamie asked.

“No. Just cover it with foil.”

The banal conversation was oddly comforting, and one task seemed to lead to another. Once all the dishes were washed and dried, and the counters were spotless, Jamie observed that someone had spilled milk in the fridge. The next thing Charlotte knew, they were emptying the entire contents and washing out the shelves and drawers.

They were considering tackling the freezer next, when Dougal came back in. He’d spoken to Deputy Field and there’d been no developments.

Other than the fact that several news vans had parked across the street, interested in interviewing family members. Deputy Field was at this very moment giving them their marching orders.

Dougal pulled out his phone, then sat at the island and began scrolling. At first Charlotte was puzzled by this—did he really expect to be getting messages at one-thirty in the morning?

Then her stomach plunged.

She knew Dougal thought his father had killed Joelle Carruthers and her daughter Josephine last July. Did he think Ed Lachlan had taken Chester, too?

“Any emails from Librarian Momma?” she asked.

Dougal jerked his head up, eyes wide with guilt. “No. Not yet, anyway.”

She’d been afraid to broach the question earlier. But it wouldn’t help to keep sticking her head in the sand. “Could Ed have taken Chester? Do you really think it’s possible?”

Jamie clued in then, too. “Come on, Dougal. You’d blame every crime in Curry County on our father if you could.”

Dougal’s jaw tightened. “It’s just a theory.”

“Well, it’s a crazy theory. No one but you thinks our father—the guy you claim you last saw in New York City as an old cripple with the assumed name of Monty something-or-other—is now living in Oregon with yet another assumed name and identity.”

Cory moaned softly in her sleep and Jamie paused before continuing in a quieter voice. “Only you think this third incarnation of our dad as Brian Greenway managed to track down our half-sister, murder her baby, and then force her to hang herself in the basement of our library.”

“You’re right,” Dougal said calmly. “I have no proof Ed was involved in any of that. But I believe he was, all the same.”

“Okay, on the off chance you’re right. Why would our father go after Chester? Isn’t his next logical target
me
? Isn’t that why you dragged me out to the Grassy Knob Wilderness today?”

“I thought so,” Dougal agreed. “But if there is one thing Ed Lachlan is not, it’s predictable.”

Charlotte desperately wished Jamie was right and Ed Lachlan had nothing to do with Chester. She put a hand on Dougal’s shoulder. “If Ed is involved, why would he want Chester?”

Dougal’s answer was far from comforting.

“For leverage.”

* * *

At four in the morning, Jamie, resigned to the fact that Chester wouldn’t be coming home that night, went home to grab a few hours of sleep. Dougal carried a sleeping Cory into the family room and settled her on the shorter of two sofas.

Cory whimpered when he put her down, but didn’t wake up, not even when Borden jumped up beside her.

Gently Dougal led Charlotte to the second sofa, where he pulled her down and cradled her in his arms. “Try to rest. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

A few minutes later she seemed to be drifting off, but just as her body relaxed, an internal alarm would jerk her awake.

Finally, they both gave up pretending they might sleep, and turned on a movie, keeping the volume low.

Cory didn’t budge.

“I’m glad she’s getting some rest,” Charlotte said.

“I wish you would, too.”

“How can I?” Charlotte went to the east-facing window, which looked out to the street. Cupping her hands to the glass, she peered out into the blackened world.

“See anything?”

“Those news vans are gone at least.” She straightened with a sigh.

“Good,” Dougal said, though he supposed if Chester wasn’t home by the morning, those vans, and a lot more, would return.

When he spotted Charlotte yawning a few minutes later, he urged her to lie down on the sofa with him again. He held her close, feeling relieved when she finally relaxed. A few minutes later he could tell by her breathing that she was asleep.

As he held his body still so he wouldn’t disturb her, his mind raced. He couldn’t stop thinking about his father. He wished he had some insight into Ed Lachlan’s plan. To Ed, killing a person wasn’t a brutal crime, it was a move in a chess game. If Ed had taken Chester, he’d be waiting for Dougal to make the next move.

Dougal had no doubt that Chester’s life depended on him making a smart play.

But what should that be?

At some point Dougal finally drifted to sleep himself, awakening at dawn when Charlotte began to stir. Soon after that Cory got up and they trooped back to the kitchen to go through the motions of having breakfast, even though none of them were hungry.

Deputy Field checked in with them long enough to grab a coffee. Shortly after that the crime scene people returned. What they hoped to find, Dougal couldn’t guess, but according to Wade this was regular procedure.

By eight-thirty Dougal was going mad. “I have to do something. This sitting around and waiting is making me insane.”