Buried (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 1) by C. J. Carmichael Read Free Book Online

plan—which he hadn’t figured out yet—the door opened and a man wearing a sheriff’s uniform entered. A big guy was Dougal’s first thought. A second later he recognized Wade MacKay. So his high school buddy had followed his old man into a career of law enforcement. Dougal wasn’t surprised. He stood and offered his hand.
    “Hello, Wade.”
    “Hey, man, you’re back.” Wade’s gaze was open, surprised, yet friendly. “I wondered if you might come to town for Jamie’s wedding.”
    “Jamie and Kyle . What’s up with that?”
    Wade shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to ask your sister.”
    “I’d rather she was marrying anyone—even you —than that sleazy bastard.”
    Wade looked embarrassed. “Actually, I’m dating Charlotte.”
    “Oh.” Dougal glanced at the librarian who had started to blush. Now wasn’t that cute. He turned to Wade. “So you’re the sheriff, now? Impressive.”
    “And you’re a big shot author. Living in New York City.”
    Dougal nodded, cleared his throat. There didn’t seem to be anything to say after that.
    Wade glanced at Charlotte before saying, “We’re going to grab a bite at the Linger Longer. Want to come along?”
    “Maybe I’ll meet up with you later. I need to book into a motel, first.”
    “You’re not staying with Jamie?”
    He packed up his laptop, avoiding Wade’s gaze. “Oh, I figure the trailer will be a little cramped.”
    Not to mention the fact that he still hadn’t called to let her know he was here.
    * * *
    Dougal left the library and stood for a moment on Driftwood Lane, getting his bearings. Across the road was the town square and the cedars for which the town had been named. At least a hundred years ago they’d been saplings growing too close to one another. Somehow they’d become entwined, and almost as if they’d been grafted together, had taken the appearance of one tree. Most every tourist who passed through town ended up taking a photo with that tree. But to Dougal it had always seemed grotesque. Something to avoid.
    He’d parked his car on the other side of the street from the library, but rather than jay walk, he decided to stroll the length of the block to the intersection and check out the local businesses. Most had been here since he was a kid. The only changes in the pharmacy and the hardware stores were the colors they were painted and the merchandise displayed in their windows. Buttermilk Café was new, but it looked a little precious for his taste.
    A few stores farther, he came to Quinpool Realty. About a dozen local listings were posted in the window. As he paused to read them over, a man exited the office. He had the sloped shoulders, sunken chest, and distended belly of an older man. It took a few seconds to realize this was Kyle’s father, Jim Quinpool.
    Jim recognized him at the same moment. “Dougal Lachlan? Is that you?”
    As a kid, Dougal had been in awe of Kyle’s father. He was the only person in town who owned a Mercedes Benz, and Dougal remembered the total envy he’d felt when Kyle had been dropped off at school, or football practice, by his father.
    Now the older man looked worn-down by life. His grip when he shook Dougal’s hand was firm, but Dougal could tell it took an effort.
    “How are you?”
    “Don’t ask. Muriel and I are divorced. She’s living in Portland now.” His blue eyes appeared foggy as he stared into Dougal’s eyes. “You’d know this if you kept in touch with your sister.”
    Dougal said nothing to that.
    “You’re back for the wedding, I assume. Last I spoke to Jamie and Kyle, they weren’t expecting you.”
    “My trip was a last minute decision.”
    “Is that right?” Jim’s eyes narrowed. “I guess you can do what you want now that you’re rich and famous. My Kyle’s done good, too.” He puffed his chest a little. “Pretty much runs the business now. Let’s me keep an office so I have something to do with my time.”
    “I always expected Kyle would do