forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) (5 page)

“What time is it?” she asked Wade, but he never had a chance to answer, because at that moment the main door to the lodge opened and a man in his thirties with short hair and a small, spry body emerged with Chester and Cory.

The twins were tanned and glowing, excited to see their dad. They ran to him for hugs, not seeming to notice either Charlotte or Wade, at first. Meanwhile the camp director came to shake Wade’s hand. “Hi, I’m Braham Fielding.” He turned to Charlotte. “And you must be the aunt. Nice to meet you. I’m sorry about the circumstances, though.” He cast a worried look toward the kids, who were still swarming their father.

“We had the
best
time,” Cory said.

“The horses were great,” Chester added. “Mine is called Snoopy. Want to come to the barn and see him? I was one of the best riders, even ask Cory, she’ll tell you it’s true.”

“I was a good rider, too. But where’s Jamie? She promised she would be here to pick us up.” Cory looked around, as if Jamie might be hiding somewhere.

And that was when she saw the other adults. “Aunt Charlotte? What are you doing here?”

“Hi Cory. Hi Chester.” She looked for Wade, planning to introduce the children to him, but he’d faded into the background.

Instead, Kyle took charge of the situation. “We have some news, kids. Come on, let’s sit on one of these logs.”

The children sat on either side of their father, leaving Charlotte to settle on the next log over, by herself. The camp director and Wade were still standing off to the side, Wade positioned so he had a clear view of Kyle and the children.

“Is Jamie okay?”

Kyle’s mouth twitched, as if the question annoyed him. “This is about your mother, Cory. We’ve finally found out what happened. Why she’s been gone so many years.”

“But we already know that, Daddy, don’t we Chester?” Cory turned to her brother for confirmation. “Mommy’s dead.”

A shocked silence followed. This time, it was Wade who stepped into the void. He told the children who he was, then asked Cory, “How did you know your mother was dead?”

“Chester told me. A long time ago.”

Now everyone was looking at the young boy who, just minutes ago, had been excited to tell his father about riding his horse.

“What made you think your mother was dead, Chester?” Wade asked.

“I just knew.” Chester glanced at his father, then at the ground. He dug his sneakered foot into the dirt. “Why else would she be gone? Mother’s don’t just leave their kids.”

The twins had been toddlers when Daisy disappeared from their lives. They probably didn’t even remember her. It didn’t seem so strange to Charlotte that they would have come up with a story to explain her absence in their lives. She herself, had come up with numerous scenarios as a child to explain why her birth mother had been forced to give her up.

“Well, turns out you’re right, son,” Kyle said, putting an arm around each of his children. “Your Mom is dead. Last week we found the place where she was buried. The police are trying to figure out what happened to her, and until they do, you’re going to live with Aunt Charlotte.”

Charlotte’s heart lurched at the look of horror that suddenly appeared on the twins’ faces. She tried to give them a reassuring smile.
I’m not that bad, promise
. But the truth was, she was almost as afraid as they were.

“Why can’t we keep living with you and Jamie?” Cory asked.

“It’s complicated, honey.”

“So? We’re not babies.” Chester’s face was red, tears pooling in his eyes. Still, he jutted his chin out and stared down his father. “Why can’t we stay together?”

“Well, for one thing, Jamie and I have separated.”

Cory broke down then. “B-but she promised me...”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Kyle looked miserable as he put an arm around his daughter. “Jamie’s upset with me, but she still cares about you guys. I talked to her yesterday and she said to tell you that she’s going to visit you lots at your aunt’s place.”

“But then you’ll be by yourself.” Cory looked stricken.

“Just until the police find out the truth about what happened to your Mom.”

“Are they going to put you in jail, Dad?” Chester asked, in a grim voice completely at odds with his earlier tone.

“We have to wait and see, son.” Kyle angled his body so neither Charlotte nor Wade could see his face.

Charlotte noticed he hadn’t offered his children false hope. Nor had either of the twins directly asked their father if he’d hurt their mother.

Either they assumed he must be innocent. Or maybe they were afraid of the answer.

Kyle cleared his throat. “It’s going to be okay guys. You’ll see. We’ll have lunch with your Aunt Charlotte when we get back to Twisted Cedars. Then I’m going to work and Jamie will help you guys pack your suitcases and move over to your aunt’s house.”

“J-Jamie will be there? Y-you promise?” Cory clutched her father’s hand.

“Yes,” Kyle said quietly. “Jamie will be there.”

“I still don’t want to do it,” Cory said. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but when Charlotte tried to pass her a tissue, she pushed it away.

day 2 after the accident

s
hortly after the woman who’d been in the truck accident regained consciousness, Wade was notified. He got the call while he was drinking coffee on his back deck. He’d been trying to read the
Curry County Reporter
. Though it was delivered on Wednesday, he didn’t usually have time to go through it until the weekend.

But he hadn’t been able to concentrate. He’d been preoccupied with thoughts of the Quinpool twins and Charlotte. How had they made out their first night together?

Who would have guessed that telling the twins they couldn’t live with their father would be harder than delivering the news their mother was dead? But given how young they’d been when Daisy disappeared, he supposed it made sense.

He sure felt badly for Charlotte, though, trying to do the right thing. He was quite certain neither Chester nor Cory would make it easy for her.

The news that the passenger from the truck accident had survived was a spot of brightness in a dark week. He decided to go to the hospital himself, to get her statement. So far his team had been unable to determine a cause for the accident. Hopefully today they’d get their answers.

As he drove south toward Brookings, he had the windows down and his sunglasses on. He was listening to the local country station—his usual musical preference when he wasn’t in a nostalgic mood about his childhood.

Despite the reason for the drive, he was enjoying every minute of it. Mostly the highway tunneled through magnificent forests of redwood and fir, but occasionally it veered out for a sweeping view of the Pacific, the rocky shore, the far-off horizon.

He held his breath each time, awed by the beauty.

He still didn’t get how his parents could have traded in all of this for the shopping malls and golf courses of Phoenix. But they told him when he was older he’d understand. Maybe. But he doubted it.

In Brookings, Wade headed straight for the Curry Medical Center. The woman at reception nodded when she saw his uniform. “Good morning, Sheriff.”

“Good morning.” He noticed a photo on her desk of three grade-school-aged children. He’d always thought he’d have a son one day. A daughter, too. He’d teach them both to fish and camp the way his father had taught him.

“I’m looking for the woman from the truck accident.”

She gave him the room number, and pointed him in the right direction.

“Thank you.” He walked down the corridor, the sound of his boots on the linoleum floor marking his progress. When he came to the right room, he glanced at the spot where the patient’s name was usually written.

“Jane Doe.” And in brackets, “Birdie.”

The door was wide open. A doctor was at the foot of the bed. Her name badge identified her as Jennifer Schrock, Neurologist. She was tall, with a blond ponytail and dark-framed eyeglasses.

“Dr. Schrock.”

She nodded at him. “Sheriff.”

He took her nod to be an invitation to enter the room. “Birdie” was the only patient in the two-bed room and the dividing curtain had been pulled back so he could see her from the doorway. She was sitting at the side of her bed, looking remarkably fine for someone who’d been unconscious for eighteen hours.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“My head hurts.”

Moving closer he could see they’d shaved some hair from the back of her head, but she had such a lot of it, that she could cover the spot if she wanted to. Her complexion was pale, which made her large eyes seem very blue in comparison.

He glanced around the room, noticing the absence of the usual hospital room clutter. No flowers, no reading material, no electronic devises of any kind.

“The name on the door, Birdie...is that you?”

After a few seconds of silence, the doctor answered. “Our patient here is having some memory issues. The nurse on duty last night gave her the name. She said it didn’t feel right calling her Jane Doe.”

”You don’t remember who you are?”

“No,” the woman said softly.

He turned his gaze back to the neurologist, who was frowning.

“Birdie are you okay if I talk to the Sheriff about your case?”

The other woman indicated she was.

The doctor motioned for him to come closer. “Birdie’s made a remarkable recovery. Reflexes, sensory function and balance are all in the normal range. Some memory loss after a prolonged state of unconsciousness is normal, but when this occurs, the memory loss usually relates to events leading up to the trauma. Usually.” She added, to emphasize this point.

“Do you remember anything at all?” he asked the woman.
Birdie
. What the hell had inspired a name like that?

“Name of our current President?” Dr. Schrock prompted.

“Barrack Obama,” Birdie responded like a polite grade school student.

“Do you know the current date?”

Birdie frowned. “It’s July, sometime. 2010.”

The doctor looked at him. “Do you have questions you’d like to ask?”

He nodded. “Birdie, do you remember why you were in the truck with Chet Walker on Friday?”

“No.”

“Is the name Chet Walker familiar at all?”

“No,” she repeated, more softly this time.

“You didn’t have a purse or any ID on you. Do you recall if you own a cell phone?”

She looked down at her hands, moving her thumbs as if pressing numbers on a keypad. “Yes. I think so. I remember four numbers: 0808. Could that be part of my phone number?”

“Maybe.” She looked so proud of herself, but he wouldn’t get far trying to trace a cell phone with only four digits.

He paced to the window and looked outside, not noticing the view, thinking instead of the possible scenarios that would account for her presence in Chet Walker’s truck. She could have been a hitchhiker. That was the simplest, most innocent explanation. Possibly she was a sex worker—but it seemed unlikely Chet would have taken her with him on such a long drive.

It was also possible the truck driver had abducted her, gotten rid of her purse, phone, and ID and been driving her into the forest. But then why would she have been seated beside him, without any restraints?

He turned back to the patient, wondering if the right question might prime her memory. “Do you remember anything before the accident? The smallest detail could be very helpful.”

“I’m sorry.”

As she covered her face with her hands, he saw the flash of a tattoo on the inside of her wrist.

“What’s the tat?”

Slowly Birdie lowered her arms, then twisted her left hand so he could see the capital letter O, with a small mark on the top-right: ‘O.

“Mean anything to you?” he asked.

Birdie shrugged. “Not really.”

“Any other tattoos?”

Birdie looked at Dr. Schrock for the answer.

“No,” replied the doctor. “No scars, or other identifying marks that would give us some clue about her identity.”

“What happens now?” he asked the doctor.

“We’ll keep her another twenty-four hours for observation. After that, we’ll have to release her.” The doctor hesitated, then sighed. “There’s another complication. Birdie has bruises on her body that predate the accident. I don’t believe they were caused by a fall, or another type of accident. It looks like someone had been beating her.”

Wade’s gaze narrowed on the doctor. “You’re sure?”

When she nodded, he turned to Birdie. “Do you remember how you got those bruises?”

The patient looked at him helplessly. “I don’t remember anything. Where will I go when they let me out of the hospital?”

She’d asked the question of him, not the doctor. “We have a women’s shelter in Twisted Cedars, about a thirty minute drive from here. I’m sure they would take you until we find out who you are and where your home is.”

Dr. Schrock gave a small nod, then touched a hand to Birdie’s shoulder. “There’s a good chance your memory will start to return soon. Not everything, all at once, it doesn’t work that way. But bit by bit, you should start remembering.”

Birdie nodded, but continued to frown.

“When you’re ready to leave, someone from Heartland Shelter will come to get you,” Wade said, feeling sorry for her.

“Good.” The doctor patted Birdie’s hand. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back later to check on you.”

“Thank you.”

Wade and the doctor walked to the nursing station before speaking. Dr. Schrock placed her clipboard on the counter. “I’ve never seen such a severe case of amnesia, Sheriff. Poor woman. I’m glad you suggested taking her to Heartland. She needs someplace safe to stay while she recovers.”

“Could she be faking it?”

“I doubt it. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was already in a state of distress before the accident. Judging by the bruises, she’d been roughed up more than once in the weeks leading up to the accident.” She removed her glasses, placing them in the pocket of her lab coat. “Did you notice the pale line on her ring finger?”

“Looks like she recently removed a ring, possibly a wedding ring.”