forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) by CJ Carmichael Page A
Authors: CJ Carmichael
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lost your parents once. And now your sister. You’ll be fine.” Dougal hesitated, then added in a quiet voice, “That said, I know what it’s like to find out your father is a murderer. It’s an awful thing.”
“We’re assuming Kyle killed her. Do you think there’s any chance we could be wrong?”
“If he didn’t—why did he go to so much effort to make it appear Daisy was still alive? Anyway, in cases like this, it’s almost always the husband. Or, in this situation, the ex.”
“I know. I just wish, for Cory and Chester’s sake, there could be another explanation.” She took a drink of her wine, then passed the glass to Dougal. “Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened when we went to the camp to pick up the kids. They already knew their mother was dead.”
Dougal’s eyebrows shot up. “Someone at camp told them?”
“No. They’d known for years. Chester said it was the only reason a mother would leave her kids—because she was dead. But I wonder if the kids overheard Kyle and his parents talking about Daisy.”
Dougal raised his eyebrows. “It’s possible, maybe even likely, that in all these years there might have been a slip-up or two.”
He passed back the glass and she finished the wine, resisting the urge to go back for the rest of the bottle. “How is Borden liking the Librarian Cottage?”
“She hates it! Won’t go near the door or windows. Spends most of her time up in the loft. I guess she feels safe up there, silly thing.”
“Did you work on your story today?” she asked.
“If you mean the one about the librarians—no. I’m going to drop it. I’d hate for my father to believe he’d been successful in manipulating me.”
“He put a lot of effort into his plan, didn’t he? Imagine the patience he must have had to establish himself as your neighbor for several months before starting to send you those emails.”
“Yeah. And offering to cat-sit Borden was quite the extra touch. Believe me, my father used to hate cats. But it seems as if he treated Borden okay when she was staying with him.”
“If his goal is to ingratiate himself with you, harming your cat would be the wrong way to go about it,” she pointed out.
“I hate that he managed to get inside my head, even for a short while. To think of how I followed up on each of the murders, just the way he wanted me to. Now. I just want to forget the bastard.”
“He knows you can’t resist a puzzle.”
“This is one puzzle I have to forget.”
“What about the families of all the victims?” Dougal had told her previously he felt an obligation to them, to lay bare the truth and give them closure.
“I do feel badly about that part.” He got out of his chair and paced to the other end of the porch. Then he turned to face her, again. “Even if I wrote the book, the cops probably wouldn’t be able to lay charges. My father will never pay for the lives he took.”
“Is it possible he was innocent?” Charlotte mused. “Maybe his claim to be the murderer was just the excuse he needed to get your interest.”
“I wish that could be true. But no. The timeline works too perfectly. The records to your Aunt Shirley’s adoption were stolen in 1972. Shortly after that, the murders started. It’s safe to assume Ed tried to contact Shirley soon after he found out she was his birth mother. And she must have rejected him in some way, which set him off on his rampage. "
It hurt to see how badly this tortured him. Charlotte went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her face against his shoulder. “You’re probably right. Your father did some terrible things. But you’re not Ed Lachlan. And you shouldn’t feel responsible for his crimes.”
“I share DNA with that guy. Charlotte, if you had any sense, you wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”
“I don’t think DNA is to blame. Something must have happened to your father to make him turn out the way he did. We’ll probably never know
“We’re assuming Kyle killed her. Do you think there’s any chance we could be wrong?”
“If he didn’t—why did he go to so much effort to make it appear Daisy was still alive? Anyway, in cases like this, it’s almost always the husband. Or, in this situation, the ex.”
“I know. I just wish, for Cory and Chester’s sake, there could be another explanation.” She took a drink of her wine, then passed the glass to Dougal. “Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened when we went to the camp to pick up the kids. They already knew their mother was dead.”
Dougal’s eyebrows shot up. “Someone at camp told them?”
“No. They’d known for years. Chester said it was the only reason a mother would leave her kids—because she was dead. But I wonder if the kids overheard Kyle and his parents talking about Daisy.”
Dougal raised his eyebrows. “It’s possible, maybe even likely, that in all these years there might have been a slip-up or two.”
He passed back the glass and she finished the wine, resisting the urge to go back for the rest of the bottle. “How is Borden liking the Librarian Cottage?”
“She hates it! Won’t go near the door or windows. Spends most of her time up in the loft. I guess she feels safe up there, silly thing.”
“Did you work on your story today?” she asked.
“If you mean the one about the librarians—no. I’m going to drop it. I’d hate for my father to believe he’d been successful in manipulating me.”
“He put a lot of effort into his plan, didn’t he? Imagine the patience he must have had to establish himself as your neighbor for several months before starting to send you those emails.”
“Yeah. And offering to cat-sit Borden was quite the extra touch. Believe me, my father used to hate cats. But it seems as if he treated Borden okay when she was staying with him.”
“If his goal is to ingratiate himself with you, harming your cat would be the wrong way to go about it,” she pointed out.
“I hate that he managed to get inside my head, even for a short while. To think of how I followed up on each of the murders, just the way he wanted me to. Now. I just want to forget the bastard.”
“He knows you can’t resist a puzzle.”
“This is one puzzle I have to forget.”
“What about the families of all the victims?” Dougal had told her previously he felt an obligation to them, to lay bare the truth and give them closure.
“I do feel badly about that part.” He got out of his chair and paced to the other end of the porch. Then he turned to face her, again. “Even if I wrote the book, the cops probably wouldn’t be able to lay charges. My father will never pay for the lives he took.”
“Is it possible he was innocent?” Charlotte mused. “Maybe his claim to be the murderer was just the excuse he needed to get your interest.”
“I wish that could be true. But no. The timeline works too perfectly. The records to your Aunt Shirley’s adoption were stolen in 1972. Shortly after that, the murders started. It’s safe to assume Ed tried to contact Shirley soon after he found out she was his birth mother. And she must have rejected him in some way, which set him off on his rampage. "
It hurt to see how badly this tortured him. Charlotte went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her face against his shoulder. “You’re probably right. Your father did some terrible things. But you’re not Ed Lachlan. And you shouldn’t feel responsible for his crimes.”
“I share DNA with that guy. Charlotte, if you had any sense, you wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”
“I don’t think DNA is to blame. Something must have happened to your father to make him turn out the way he did. We’ll probably never know
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