Buried [Completed]

Chapter seventeen

Paperwork. Wade sighed. The dirge of the profession. This week had been especially bad, thanks to a boatload of careless tourists who'd wanted to go fishing on the Rogue on Wednesday, but had ended up swimming, instead. Thanks to excellent efforts by his search and rescue team there had been no fatalities but there easily could've been.

"Hey, boss. Got a few minutes to talk to a guy named Dougal Lachlan?"

His administrative assistant, Marnie Phillips, was at the door. She'd freshened her makeup since he last saw her at the front desk. Probably chomping on the bit to get started on her Friday night.

Wade had expected that eventually Dougal would make the time to see him, but, to be honest, he could have picked a better time. He'd hoped to plow through this admin stuff so he could start the weekend with a clean conscience. Wade sighed and pushed aside his paperwork.

"Yeah, I'll talk to him."

Unlike Marnie, he wasn't looking forward to this particular Friday night. Not now since things had gone sideways with Charlotte. Wade pushed himself out of his chair, but before he could make his way to the hall to greet his old friend, Dougal was striding into his office, then shaking his hand.

"Good to see you, Wade. Thanks for making the time."

Wade just nodded. This couldn't be a personal call or Dougal would have suggested meeting at the bar. Besides, Dougal had an intense, focused expression that told Wade he was looking for information. Wade sat down and braced himself, not sure what to expect next.

"I just got back from Pendleton. Hell of a long drive."

"What were you doing there?"
"To tell you the truth, I'm not sure. Maybe doing research for a new book. Or maybe wasting my time."

"That's pretty vague."

"I just don't know enough about the situation yet."

Dougal dropped into the interview chair, placed his hands on Wade's desk and leaned forward.

"I'm looking into something that happened a long time ago. And I'm thinking Shirley Hammond might fit into the story."

Wade's protective instincts went on alert.

"You mean Charlotte's aunt?"

"I need to know the details of how she died. People thought it was suicide right?"

"It was suicide. My dad was a deputy back then. He's the one who took the call. Shook him up badly."

"How do you know this? We weren't even born when Shirley died."

"Dad always liked hashing over his old cases. Shirley's death troubled him a lot. He couldn't understand why a nice woman with brains and a good family would kill herself. Especially in such a violent way."

"I have to agree with him there. It seems pretty strange. Especially since she didn't leave a note. Plus, why the hanging? That's not a choice many suicidal women make. And even more weird, why do it at the library when she lived alone in a forest filled with trees that would have served her purpose."

"Those are all valid questions. But it's been a long time. Why dig it up now?"

Dougal paused for a second. Took a deep breath.

"There were other librarians murdered around that time. In 1972 a librarian named Elva Mae Ayer was strangled with a red silk scarf in Roseburg. Another librarian, Mari Beamish, was killed the same way in Pendleton in '73."

Wade jotted down the names, the dates. Writing helped him to think.

"Shirley Hammond wasn't strangled. So where's the connection?"