Read Online forgotten (Twisted Cedars Mysteries Book 2) by CJ Carmichael - Free Book Online

felt like less than thirty minutes later when Frank Dunne showed up at his door. Wade checked the time on his computer, surprised to see that, yes, it was ten.
    “Come in, Frank. How are you doing?”
    Frank Dunne was around forty, a large man who moved—and thought—slowly. He wasn’t the brightest deputy Wade had working for him, but he always followed through when he was given a job. He dotted every “i” and crossed every “t.” And his impressive bulk was handy for intimidating troublemakers in volatile situations.
    “Not good. I can’t tell what caused that driver to leave the road. We got the report back from vehicle inspection. Nothing wrong, mechanically speaking. As you know, weather and road conditions were excellent, so we can’t blame fog. Possibly a deer or moose ran across the road—but we couldn’t see any tracks.”
    “Maybe the autopsy on Chet Walker will give us our answer. I expect we’ll have that by the end of the day.”
    “A heart attack would explain a lot,” Frank said. He checked his notes. “I did call the hospital to check on the passenger. She’s awake now, being released today. I wanted her to come in and make a statement, but they say she can’t remember anything.”
    “Yeah. I tried to get a statement from her yesterday. The neurologist says she’s suffering from amnesia, can’t even recall her name.”
    Frank looked at his papers again. “I guess she won’t be much help with this, then, will she?”
    “Afraid not. You’re going to have to do some digging. Follow Walker’s route the day of the accident. See if you can find out where he picked up his passenger.”
    * * *
    At lunch time, Wade left the office for his meeting with Duane Carter. Slipping on his sunglasses, he made his way along Driftwood Lane, squinting in the blazing sunlight and avoiding the swarms of tourists on the sidewalks.
    Summer wasn’t his favorite time of the year, anymore. When he was a kid he’d loved the time off school. As a teenager, he’d appreciated the influx of bikinied girls on the beach.
    But when you were in law enforcement, the tourists who came every July and August seemed to bring more trouble than they were worth. While the merchants of Twisted Cedars appreciated the extra vacation dollars, Wade and his staff had to deal with the noise disturbances, petty theft, and instances of drunk and disorderly conduct. Then there were the weekend warriors who got lost in the mountains, or stranded on their boats.
    Since the Buttermilk Café was only a block from the Sheriff’s Office, Wade reached his destination quickly. The cream and yellow clapboard bungalow, on the south end of Driftwood Lane, catered to the trendy and tourist crowds.
    Pictures of cows—cute artistic renditions—hung on the walls, and the menu featured items like pancakes and scones made from buttermilk. There was even buttermilk available on the beverage list. Wade had tried it once. Tasted like vomit.
    But he tried to spread his business around town, and he knew Duane Carter liked this place. So here he was.
    Duane was in his early thirties, too, but as far as interests went, Wade and his deputy couldn’t be more different. Wade liked hiking in the wilderness, fishing and beer. While Duane was a fitness freak. He and his wife Lisa were always training for a triathlon or marathon, or some such event. And Wade was always getting hit up to be a sponsor.
    On the plus side for him, Duane’s mind was as fast and efficient as his body. He got work done well. And quickly.
    Wade paused at the entrance long enough to see Duane was already seated at a table. He’d ordered them both lattes, Wade was secretly glad to see. He loved lattes, but on principle—because real men should drink their coffee black, or so his father had taught him—never ordered them himself.
    “Hey Sheriff. Think I’ll have the kale and goat cheese omelet. You?”
    “The turkey clubhouse.” He didn’t need to think. It was the only item on