Page 30 of The Perfect Hosts
Jamie smiles. “I’m glad we could catch up,” he tells the sheriff. “It’s really good to be back.”
You, Juneau says as Jamie heads to his car,are a terrible liar. Always have been.
Chapter 12
Madeline
Madeline waits until Agent Saldano and the sheriff have left before turning to Wes. “Did you know that Lucy was going to show up here?” she asks.
Wes pulls her into a hug. “I had no idea. But last night she told me she was worried about you. She said she felt bad about how you left things after your stepdad’s funeral.”
“I’m just surprised she’d come now,” Madeline says, pulling back from his embrace. “She was awful to me. I can’t help it that her dad put me in charge of his estate. She needs to grow up and take responsibility for her own actions.” She had told Wes about her argument with Lucy but hadn’t told him everything.
Wes tightens his arms around her. “Honestly, I’m surprised too. But maybe it’s a good thing she’s here. It’s not healthy for you or the baby to have all that anger and resentment built up. This might be a chance for the two of you to make up. And besides, I’d feel a lot better having an extra pair of eyes looking out for anything out of the ordinary.”
“Maybe,” Madeline says noncommittedly.
“I love you so much, Madeline,” he murmurs into her neck. “And the baby. I don’t want anything bad to happen to either one of you.” Wes is gripping her so tightly now thathis fingers are digging into the tender area on her torso at the edge of her stitches. She gasps at the pressure, trying to pull away, but he holds on for a second longer. When Wes lets go, his eyes are damp.
Madeline reaches up, lays a palm on his cheek. “I love you too,” she says, extracting herself from his grip.
“I’ll go check on the horses,” Wes says. “Maybe take Billy out for a ride. I need to wrap my head around all this. Will you be okay here?”
Madeline nods, not wanting to admit she’s afraid. Afraid of whoever caused the explosion, afraid of the media circling like sharks around them, afraid of what her sister might do.
Out the window, Madeline sees Lucy making her way toward the house. Despite her small stature, she moves confidently and with purpose, as if she belongs here. Madeline can’t deal with her sister right now and excuses herself to go upstairs and wash away the final remnants of ash and smoke.
She can’t get her stitches wet, so a bath or a shower are out of the question. Instead, she stiffly lowers her head and washes her hair in the bathroom sink, then uses a washcloth to scrub her body, avoiding the strip of stitches on her back. She stands for a moment, staring at her pregnant body in the mirror. As her stomach expanded and her breasts swelled, Madeline thought that Wes might not find her as attractive, but until the last month it was the opposite. He couldn’t get enough of her. His hands roaming, exploring the curves and valleys of her body. Then suddenly he stopped. Wes still hugged her and dropped perfunctory kisses on her cheek, but it wasn’t the same. Secretly, Madeline was relieved. Her body felt like it wasn’t her own any longer, and physical touch made her want to jump out of her skin. Madeline had spoken about it to Johanna, who assured her a change in sexual activitywas common, nothing to worry about. They were in for a big change in their lives.
The house phone rings. It’s been ringing all day. More reporters, Madeline thinks.
Wrapping her wet hair in a towel, Madeline slips on a pair of maternity leggings and one of Wes’s old sweatshirts and goes to the bedroom window. The crime-scene investigators and the fire marshal have packed up their equipment and are gone, leaving behind the charred wreckage of the barn and a few tattered remnants of yellow crime-scene tape. The backyard and the meadow are a mess, but Madeline is too tired to deal with it right now. She’ll lie down, just for a little while, and then call Dalton. The absence of Johanna is a raw, gaping hole. Johanna is the one Madeline would talk to about the barn fire. Johanna would be the one able to put Lucy in her place. Johanna would be the one with Madeline right now, easing her into bed, assuring her that the baby would be fine.
Madeline stifles a sob, but before she can turn from the window and bury herself beneath the covers, she sees Wes and Lucy walking together into the stable. They are so close to one another that Madeline can’t see daylight between them. Moments later, Lucy appears guiding Blackjack while Wes follows behind with his quarter horse, Billy. Of course her sister would take Madeline’s favorite horse out without her permission. Lucy makes a show of struggling to hoist herself up into the saddle until Wes steps in. Madeline watches in disbelief as Wes places both hands on Lucy’s ass giving her a boost. Wes then climbs into his saddle, and side by side the two of them move languidly through the meadow. Lucy throws her head back and laughs at something Wes says.
Madeline watches her husband and sister bouncing lightlyin their saddles, then pick up their pace until they are moving as one with the horses, Pip trotting happily behind them. What in the world would Wes and Lucy have to talk about besides Madeline? Irritation strums her nerves.
Despite their fragile relationship, they are still sisters. That has to count for something, right? Doubt, hot and fetid, begins to curdle in her chest. Lucy, Madeline knows, is capable of a great many things, but is seducing her husband one of them?
Chapter 13
Jamie
Jamie and a beleaguered doctor stand outside Mellie Bauer’s hospital room. The young woman in the hospital bed is lucky. One leg, above the knee, is wrapped in gauze; otherwise, Jamie can’t see any other sign of injury. In his work, Jamie has seen people burned beyond recognition, flesh and muscle and bone melting into one globulous mess, but somehow still alive. “She’s going to be okay?”
The doctor nods her head. “Oh yes. Lucky girl. She’ll be discharged in just a little while.”
“Any family stop by yet?”
“No,” the doctor says. “From what we can gather, she recently moved out here by herself. No family in the area. The catering company has a Rose Bauer listed as next of kin. We never were able to get a hold of her,” the doctor says, glancing at her phone. “I have to go, but feel free to go on in.”
“Did she say anything?” Jamie asks. “About what happened?”
“She’s been pretty tight-lipped,” the doctor says. “We’ve given her some medication, so she hasn’t felt much like talking.”
Jamie remembers the feeling. After his attack, morphine became his welcome companion. His injuries so painful that he was sure he would die, coupled with the panic of not being able to see because his eyes were so swollen that his vision was reduced to paper-thin slits. He remembers his mother sittingat his bedside, holding his hand, and the desperate prayers that swept past his ear.“Please, God, where is she? Please bring her home.”And her pleas to Jamie— “Please, Jamie, what happened to Juneau? Do you know where she is?”
The IV became an umbilical cord feeding him a blissful reprieve from the pain and knowledge that something very, very bad had happened to him and to his sister.