forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) (8 page)

Her mother had marveled that her sentimental, romantic daughter had wanted to study business in college. But there were two sides to Jamie, and one them was organized, methodical and rational. That was probably why she hadn’t minded growing up living in a trailer, while Dougal had hated it, chafing under the close quarters, too ashamed to ever invite over his friends.

But as long as you pared your possessions to the essential and kept everything where it belonged, living in a trailer was very doable. Jamie had also thrived with the close proximity to her mother, whom she’d adored. Katie wasn’t the type to criticize her kids or subject them to lots of rules. Katie had given them only love and approval.

“The world is tough enough. Home should be a happy place.”

That had been Katie’s philosophy.

And she’d been right. The world
was
tough. Especially when you were poor. That was a fact. From an early age Jamie had resolved that she would get an education and find a steady, secure job. Of course, she’d also dreamed that she’d meet a handsome, charming man and have her happily ever after, too.

At least one of her dreams had worked out.

Her cell phone pinged, signaling a text message. It was from Charlotte Hammond.

ANY CHANCE YOU COULD BABYSIT CHESTER AND CORY TONIGHT SO I CAN VOLUNTEER AT HEARTLAND?

Jamie answered quickly. YES.

She missed the kids almost as much as she missed Kyle, or, more accurately, the man she’d thought Kyle was. Because clearly she hadn’t known the real man when she’d said her wedding vows just six weeks ago.

The firm’s receptionist, Bonny Barnes, appeared at her open office door. “Jamie, your brother’s here. Want me to show him in?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Bonny was a straight-forward woman, who dressed sensibly and kept her hair trimmed short. She was married to the local postmaster and the two of them doted on their golden retriever, Molly.

When she’d heard about Jamie’s predicament, she'd shaken her head.

“You should think about a puppy. There are so many needing a home at the shelter right now.”

Everyone had their own idea on what would make her happy these days. Jamie supposed she was about to hear Dougal’s.

“Hey sis.”

She couldn’t help but be impressed with the sight her brother made, standing by her open door, scowling.

Dougal would have made a terrific screen actor. He was terrifically handsome, especially when he was brooding, which was often. And there was a darkness, and a knowingness in his eyes that could be chillingly captivating. If he had gone in for acting, though, he would be the villain, not the hero.

“This is a surprise.”

“I’ve come to take you to lunch.”

“It’s almost two o’clock. I’ve already eaten.”

“Coffee then.”

Dougal looked rough—more so than usual. He hadn’t shaved for several days and his eyes looked sunken and darkly rimmed.

“You are so lucky the disheveled look is in vogue these days.”

“Like I care either way.” He brushed his fingers through hair every bit as thick, curly, and dark as her own. “Are you coming, or not?”

She sighed and set aside her working papers. “I suppose I can spare fifteen minutes.”

They walked out to Driftwood Lane, crossed the highway and ended up at the Visitor Information Center. As usual the parking lot was filled with vehicles sporting license plates from all over the country and Canada as well.

Dougal led the way beyond the parking lot along the sandy path that led to the beach.

“Last time you met me here you tried to talk me out of marrying Kyle.”

Dougal said nothing, just sat on the same large chunk of weathered cedar as last time and looked out to the ocean.

“Obviously, I should have listened to you.”

There were no “I told you so’s” coming from her brother, at least.

“You think he did it? Killed Daisy and then buried her body?”

Dougal turned to look at her. “Who else?”

She sighed, then picked up a stick to draw lines in the sand. She didn’t really have any doubt Kyle was behind his ex-wife’s death. Not since she’d discovered he’d been traveling to Sacramento once a month since Daisy’s so-called disappearance, using her old bank card to withdraw money from the joint account Daisy had shared with her sister.

“Do you think they’ll arrest him?”

“I imagine they’re fast-tracking the lab work and their interviews. Who can say if they’ll get enough evidence for a conviction, though.” He shrugged. “I didn’t come to talk about Kyle, actually. Something happened when I was in New York you should know about.”

“You weren’t gone long. You must have packed quickly.” She was glad her brother was leaving the big city and moving home to Twisted Cedars. She only wished he’d done it before their mother died.

“I was motivated to get out of there fast. I had this old man living a few doors down from me—called himself Monty Monroe. He seemed pretty chatty whenever I saw him in the halls or out on the street, but I didn’t think much about it. A lot of old people like to talk when they get the chance.”

True. But Jamie didn’t think her brother was the type lonely old people would tend to gravitate toward. But there was more to this, obviously.

“Before I left for Oregon the first time, he offered to cat-sit for me. But on this last trip I found out the guy had an ulterior motive. He wasn’t being neighborly. He was stalking me.”

She looked at him, alarmed. “Was he a crazy fan or something?”

“I wish.” Dougal looked her squarely in the eyes. “He was our father.”

Her heart thudded. Was it true? “But his name. You said it was Monty Monroe.”

“I’m pretty sure he assumed the new identity after he broke parole and moved to New York.”

“Did you recognize him?” She hadn’t been born when her father left, and Dougal had been little, but their mother had photographs. Not many, but a few.

“No. He’d grown a beard and he was old, Jamie, really old. Plus, his body was shriveled with disease. He claimed to be arthritic and I don’t think he was faking it. He could hardly walk.”

“So how did you figure out he was our father?”

“When I went back to the city to pick up Borden, he’d moved out. Borden was okay, he’d left her with lots of food and water, but he also left behind a note that made it clear who he really was.”

“Where is he now?” Her heart raced at the possibility that she might actually be able to see him, the father who had been entirely absent for all of her life. Was he really as bad as everyone said? But there had to be at least a kernel of goodness. After all, their mother had married him.

Just as she had married Kyle.

For as much as Jamie had come to despise Kyle since she’d found out the truth about Daisy, she wouldn’t classify him as evil. He’d been a good father to Cory and Chester. He had been loving to her. He wasn’t all bad.

So maybe her father wasn’t either. Maybe there were extenuating circumstances behind the death of his second wife that none of them knew about.

“I suspect he’s set himself up in another city by now, with yet another new identity.”

“Why would he go to so much trouble?”

“I wish I knew. He seems desperate for me to write a book that features him as some sort of serial killer of librarians. Maybe he’s just old and looking to establish a connection with me. Or maybe he craves the notoriety.”

Dougal’s shoulders slumped. He looked so damn tired. But it wasn’t just a physical weariness, Jamie suspected. This fatigue seemed to go beyond muscles and bones, setting in to his very psyche.

“He’s been playing me along for the last few months, Jamie. Sending me e-mails about some murders that occurred a long time ago.”

“The librarians?” He’d been investigating the deaths since he came back to Twisted Cedars, with the idea of writing his next true crime novel about the case.

“Yeah. I think it was his way of trying to connect to me, since I would never reply to any of his letters.”

It made no sense to feel hurt that the father everyone kept telling her was a monster who had hurt her mother and murdered his second wife had never reached out to her. But feelings weren’t always logical, and that was exactly how Jamie did feel. Despite the fact that her father, from all reports, didn’t even know of her existence.

“Did he really do it? Kill all those women?”

“God only knows if anything Ed Lachlan says is true. I’m only telling you this now to warn you. In case he approaches you. I know you, Jamie. Given the chance, you would want to meet him and give him the benefit of the doubt.”

She didn’t have the nerve to argue the point. Just a few months ago she’d asked Wade if he could help her track her father down. Wade had put her off pretty quickly.

“I hope you learned something from what happened with Kyle. There are some pretty bad people in this world. And, unfortunately, our father is one of them.” Dougal stood and waited until she’d done the same. Then he took her arm. “If he tries to get in touch, you call me, okay? Don’t wait even one minute. Just call.”

s
ince she was eager to spend time with the twins, Jamie had left work early and Charlotte was able to make it to Heartland before five o’clock. Terri Morrison, a tall, energetic woman in her late forties, with short, brown hair, and expressive brown eyes, was happy to see her.

“Charlotte, I’m loving
Unbroken
, I’m so glad you suggested it for our Book Club. But I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“I brought some new books.” Charlotte set the carton on a chair. “Plus, I was wondering if you had someone new register today? The Sheriff was telling me about a woman who was injured in a truck accident on Friday.”

“Birdie. Yes, I picked her up from the hospital today. A real sad case. Poor woman doesn’t remember anything. Not her name, or where she lives, or...anything. It’s like something from a book.”

“Do you think I could meet her? The Sheriff thought it might be a good idea if someone showed her around town. It might help her get her bearings and maybe some of her memories, as well.”

“That’s an excellent idea. She’s been very listless since she arrived. Leave those books, I’ll take care of them later. We have Birdie in one of our east wing rooms.”

Birdie wasn’t in her room, though. She was in the communal kitchen, sitting at the table and watching several of the other women prepare dinner, while four children played around her. A little girl, about four, was coloring pictures at the table across from Birdie, while the other three, toddlers, kept busy with a bucket of toys on the floor.

“Hello everyone,” Terri said. “Birdie I’d like you to meet Charlotte Hammond, our local librarian. Charlotte runs a book club for us here and keeps a selection of books for us in our mobile library in the computer room.”

Charlotte was struck by an aura of deep sadness around Birdie. Despite bruising under her eyes, and her sickly pallor, she was strikingly beautiful, her features putting Charlotte in mind of the actress Amy Adams. Her thick, reddish-blonde hair was so thick you could hardly see the white bandages protecting her injury.

She looked on the verge of collapse, yet she stood and offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlotte.”

“I’m sorry about your accident. I hope you recover quickly.”

Birdie gave a small smile, then glanced out the window. “It’s sunny outside, but I feel like I’m walking around in a thick fog.”

“Are you in pain?”

“I just took my meds an hour ago, so I’m pretty good right now.”

Terri stepped forward then. “Birdie, if you’re up to it, Charlotte has offered to give you a bit of a tour of Twisted Cedars. It might help orient you.”

“That sounds nice,” Birdie said softly.

Since she didn’t look that strong, Charlotte decided the tour would have to be by car. “How about I drive you to the main street and we check that out?”

“I’d really like that.”

Terri accompanied them to the front street where Charlotte had parked her pride and joy—her father’s red ‘97 BMW.

“It’s been a hot July so far, hasn’t it?” Terri commented.

Charlotte agreed. “We’ve been using the air conditioning a lot at the library the past few weeks. Last year we only needed it a few days all summer.”

“Today didn’t seem all that warm to me,” Birdie said.

“Maybe you’re not used to the weather here on the coast,” Terri replied.

Birdie just shrugged, obviously incapable of confirming one way or the other.

Once alone in the car with Birdie, Charlotte talked about the benefits of belonging to the library. “When you’re feeling stronger, I’d love if you came to visit. I could issue you a special library card you could use until—until you remember your name.”

“That would be nice.”

Birdie spoke so quietly Charlotte had to strain to hear her. She sat very still and watchful as Charlotte drove toward the heart of the town, pointing out the high school and the local rec center on the way.

As they neared the center of town, traffic grew heavier and parking spaces harder to find. Fortunately just as they were approaching the center of Driftwood Lane, a big SUV pulled out, leaving a nice large parking space for Charlotte’s coupe. Once she’d maneuvered into the slot, she turned to her passenger. “Are you up to a short walk?”

“I think so.” Out on the street, however, Birdie paused, confused amid the steady stream of tourists and locals on the hunt for a place to have dinner. “What’s the name of this town again?”

“Twisted Cedars.” Charlotte pointed to the small green space where the two famous cedar trees grew, entwined as if they were one. “Locals sometimes say
I’ll meet you at the cedars.
This is where they mean. This street is called Driftwood Lane, and you’ll find most everything here, from a grocery store to the post office.”

Though, what would Birdie do with a post office? Who would she mail a letter to?

“Pretty town. Small, though.”

“Yes, but we’re the county seat.” Charlotte hesitated. “The fact that you say that makes me think you must be from a larger center—a city, perhaps.”