exposed (Twisted Cedar Mysteries Book 3) (18 page)

Not only had Ed killed Isabel—he was going to kill her, too, unless someone stopped him.

Amos sometimes popped in to work on his handyman projects in the evening. But would he do so tonight?

“You killed Isabel Fraser,” she said. “You strangled her with one of the red scarves you’ve been stealing from me.”

God help her, how many of those scarves had she replaced since Ed Lachlan barged into her life?

Shirley realized the answer was the same as the number of snow globes she’d been collecting in her curio cabinet: four.

She wished she had those cheap souvenirs now. She would love to hurl them at Ed’s face and wipe away his evil grin.

“It’s been such a fun little game, Mother. Waiting to see how long it would take you to catch on. Yes, I killed Isabel Fraser. Made a good, quick job of it, too. Unfortunately for Elva I wasn’t quite as effective with her.”

“Elva...?” Shirley couldn’t think of anyone she knew with that name.

He seemed to enjoy her puzzlement. He let her stew in it for several minutes before finally elaborating.

“Her full name was Elva Mae Ayer. She lived in Roseburg. She was a librarian, of course, around your age. Not nearly as attractive. But not bad, either. She had a protracted death, due to my inexperience. Lucky Mary Louise Beamish and Bernice Gilberg fared better.”

Elva. Mary. Bernice. None of these names were familiar to her.

“Why did you pick those particular women?”

“Pure chance. It was part of your punishment, you see. For every conference you attended, I would kill one librarian. I would hide in the basement of the main library just before closing hours and nab the first victim who stepped into my trap.”

“You actually killed these women. Strangled them. To get back at me?”

“Finally she gets it.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled, as if they were talking about a brainteaser.

“If you wanted to punish me—why not kill me?”

“And where would the fun be in that? One violent twist of the scarf, continued pressure for two full minutes, and then the game would have been over. You wouldn’t have even understood what had happened. Or why.”

Shirley held up her hands. “What is it you want from me? It’s too late. I can’t change what happened to you. Just as I couldn’t change what happened to me.”

Ed’s eyes narrowed. “You dare to compare what happened to you to what I went through? Lots of schoolgirls deal with unexpected pregnancy. It doesn’t wreck their lives. You had everything. Adoring parents, a beautiful home, lots of food, everything your heart desires. If you’d wanted, you could have kept me. Raised me as a Hammond.”

“But I didn’t. And I’m sorry. Is that what you’ve been waiting to hear me say?”

“Maybe it was. In the beginning. But it’s not nearly enough now.”

* * *

Wade spent most of Sunday meeting with the FBI. Now that they knew for certain Chester had been kidnapped, a mobile task force had been dispatched from Portland and the case was officially out of his control. But Wade and his team intended to keep looking for the boy as hard as ever.

The FBI had also agreed Dougal should continue working on his sessions with Ed. A warrant had been obtained that would allow them to record the video chats. And the experts were working on tracing the chat room connection. But given the dead end they’d hit trying to track down Ed’s emails, Wade didn’t hold out much hope that they’d be able to trace Ed that way either.

At quarter past six Wade paused outside the door to Dougal’s small office. He didn’t want to risk interrupting a video chat with Ed. But after several moments of silence he figured he was safe so he went inside.

Dougal was staring at the laptop, looking like hell. Unshaven, gaunt and exhausted. Judging by the number of dirty mugs on the table, he was surviving on pure caffeine.

Wade leaned against the door. “How’s it going?”

“You ever hear writers talk about killer deadlines? This one really is.”

“I’m glad you still have your sense of humor.”

“I get flashes of it now and then. Wish I could say the same for my sense of humanity.”

“You’ve written true-crime books your entire career. This is what you do.”

Dougal raised his eyebrows and Wade said nothing more. This case was different and they both knew it.

“You’ve been locked away in this room for twelve hours,” Wade said. “Let’s head over to the Buttermilk Café for one of their all-day breakfasts.”

Dougal shook his head. “I can’t stop for that long.”

“Correction. You
need
to stop for that long. Come on, it’s an order.”

“I wasn’t aware I was working for the sheriff’s office these days.”

“You may not be on the payroll. But you’re definitely on my turf.” Wade clasped a hand on Dougal’s shoulder and waited while he shut down the computer.

They paused on their way out the main door, both instinctively looking up to check out the changing weather. High wispy clouds and a persistent wind from the southwest signaled a low pressure system moving in.

At the Café they both ordered the Rogue Breakfast. Instead of coffee, Wade opted for water, while Dougal ordered both.

“Your gut must be a mess with all the java you’ve been drinking.”

“I’ll go on a health food cleanse when this is over,” Dougal promised.

Wade grimaced. Not for him, thanks. “I know you’re working on this book as fast as you can. I’d like to find Ed’s hideout before you finish.”

“That would be great,” Dougal agreed. “But you do realize he may not even be in Oregon.”

“Maybe not. But if he’s in my county, I want to be the one who finds him.”

“Is this a pissing match between you and the Feds?”

“Not at all. They’ve got their areas of expertise and I’ve got mine.”

“Well, I wish I could help you. But Ed’s given away nothing since he let me see Chester.”

“I was hoping maybe you’d seen something, or maybe even heard something in the background.”

“Christ!”

The server who was arriving with their plates of food, almost dropped the plates.

Dougal glanced at the woman and apologized. He waited until she’d set down the dishes and scurried away, before resuming more quietly.

“I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, but I did hear something. Sounded like a woman talking in the background when Ed went to get Chester.”

“A woman. So they’re not alone?”

“Could have been a voice on a TV program or something, but I don’t think so.”

“Could you tell if it was an older woman, or younger?”

“Didn’t sound too old. But not young either. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.”

“Do you think it’s possible Ed has a new girlfriend?”

Dougal grimaced. “I hope not, for her sake.”

They tucked into their food for a few minutes, but Dougal quickly lost his appetite.

“I keep thinking about the kid. Seeing me on the video feed probably raised his hopes about getting rescued.”

That had been over a day ago. For a young boy it must feel like an eternity. Wade pulled out his card to cover the meal. It was time they got back to work.

* * *

Dougal was in Wade’s office filling in some necessarily paperwork, when Marnie came to the door.

“Charlotte Hammond’s here to see Dougal.”

Dougal raised his eyebrows at Wade, wondering if he’d called her, but Wade just shrugged.

“Show her in.”

A moment later Charlotte appeared with her hair in a messy bun. She was wearing skinny jeans and a baggy blue sweater with a wide neck that threatened to slide off one of her narrow shoulders. The librarian had no idea how sexy she was, which made her only more appealing. Dougal wanted to kiss every inch of her long, pale neck.

Which probably wouldn’t impress Wade very much.

So he kissed her on the lips, instead. “What’s up?”

“I had an idea how I could help. Before you ask, the house isn’t empty, Jamie agreed to hang out and work on one of her files.”

“It must be hard to sit and wait,” Wade said. “It may help to know that the FBI is working full throttle on this now too.”

“I’m not here to complain, Wade. I appreciate all that’s being done. I just want to do my part, especially now that we know for sure Ed has Chester and he won’t be coming home until this book is finished.”

“What is it you want to do, exactly?” Dougal asked.

Charlotte straightened purposefully. “I’m going to help you with the book.”

“Appreciate the offer. But I don’t see how you can do that.”

She pointed to a briefcase she’d left sitting outside the office door. “I brought my laptop. If you transfer over your rough pages, I can do the editing.”

Dougal did not like the idea of her reading his father’s story. “We don’t need to bother with editing. I’m not exactly shooting for a Pulitzer here. All I want is words on the page.”

“But your father might be pickier. He probably won’t be impressed with grammar mistakes, that sort of thing. With my help, a few minutes after you write your last scene, I’ll have the book ready...” She paused. “What does he expect you to do when it’s done?”

“He hasn’t told me that part yet.”

Wade, who’d been listening to the exchange with interest, held up his hand. “Well you better ask him, and find out.”

“I’ll ask. I can’t promise he’ll give me an answer.”

“In any case, I think Charlotte is right. It’s in Chester’s best interests if this book is polished and ready to go.”

Dougal scowled at him. “She’s already under enough stress. Last thing she needs is to read this horror story.”

“Don’t give Wade a hard time. He knows I’m right. Your father may have done monstrous things. But it will make me feel better to help. Please let me.”

And then she gave him a wide-eyed look he had no defense against. He gave his head a shake. “I don’t like it. But if you insist...”

With massive misgivings, Dougal led Charlotte to his small room at the end of the long corridor. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. It’s probably easiest if I download the manuscript to a memory stick and give you that. We’ll upload it onto your computer to make sure there are no glitches.”

In less than five minutes Dougal had a copy of the book transferred to Charlotte’s laptop. He packed it up in her briefcase and handed it to her.

“You planning to work at home?”

She nodded.

“Okay. Just make sure Cory doesn’t see this.”

“Of course.”

Dougal stared hard at her, wondering how she would look at him after today. She said she wanted to help with the book. But once she saw how Ed’s mind worked—would that change the way she saw him?

He thought it would.

And maybe that was okay.

From the beginning he’d felt his relationship with the librarian was too good to be true. That she was too good to be true.

“This stuff is heavy going. Make sure you take a break if it starts to get to you.”

“I’ll be fine.” She gave him a smile that was meant to be reassuring.

But she still hadn’t read any of the material. Even Dougal, who had interviewed many murderers in the course of his career, had been taken aback by the utter lack of humanity in Ed Lachlan.

The chapters written in Shirley’s point of view weren’t bad. It was the others, the inside, up-close Ed chapters comprising the majority of the book, that were soul destroying.

“You need anything else?” he asked.

“Just a kiss.”

“Gladly. By the way, that sweater of yours is a real turn-on.”

She kissed him back so sweetly, he didn’t want to let her go. But reluctantly he finally pulled away. “Guess I better sign in for another video chat session with Ed.”

She nodded, her expression suddenly grave. “Could you ask if he’d let you talk with Chester again? Maybe he’d let us
both
talk to him?”

“I will definitely ask. I don’t expect he’ll say yes, but if he does, I’ll call you.” He held up his cell phone, and she nodded.

“Will you come over later, to catch a bit of sleep?”

He hesitated. “I might try to work all night. We’re getting close to the end.”

She looked concerned. “You’re driving yourself too hard. You need at least a few hours of sleep. Promise me you’ll come over, no matter how late.”

“I’ll text you first,” he replied, sidestepping the question.

Once she was gone Dougal closed the door feeling like an inmate being locked inside his cell. For a moment he stared at the blank computer screen thinking back to that afternoon in his New York apartment when he’d received his first email from Librarian Momma.

His instinct had been to delete it.

If only he’d gone with that.

Instead he’d read it. And even now he could remember it, word-for-word.

You don’t know me. But you should. I’ve got a story that will be the best of your career. Back in the seventies four women were killed. Librarians. No one ever solved the cases. But I know what happened. Ever hear of Elva Mae Ayer? She was the first. Check it out then let me know if you want the names of the others. I am here and willing to help.

Initially he’d assumed it was made-up crap by a deranged fan.

If only he’d simply deleted it and forgotten about it, as he’d done with all the other weird emails he’d received during his writing career.

But he’d started looking into it and before he knew it, he was hooked.

Just as Ed had known he would be.

Dougal put his hands on the keyboard and pressed the control key. Soon the screen flickered to life. He thought about Charlotte hurrying home. Soon she’d be reading the book, stepping into the very world he’d wanted to protect her from.

No sense worrying about it now.

He went into the new chat site, following the instructions in the latest email and send an invite to LM007. Within seconds Ed responded.

As the video came into focus, Dougal realized he wasn’t the only one who was getting worn down by this work. Ed was looking his age and then some. He’d stopped shaving, and his closely cropped hair was beginning to fill in with matted, gray curls. More and more he was looking like Monty, the arthritic neighbor he’d been pretending to be when they first met.