Page 46 of The Perfect Hosts
After they finished at the Drakes’, the forensic team went directly to the Monaghan home and executed a search warrant. They found nothing related to the explosion—no double-headed nails, no ball bearings matching the ones left behind at the crime scene, though Dalton had an impressive cache of firearms in the gun safe. The Monaghan computers have been packed up and sent to experts who will do a digital inspection, looking for evidence that Dalton had researched how to make an IED. The techs did find a journal belonging to Johanna that looks like it could be the source of the now-bloody paper.
Jamie slips on a pair of gloves and begins thumbing through the journal and opens to a page that looks as if a sheet was roughly ripped out. He aligns the bagged paper with the journal’sinner spine and finds that the ripped edges match like a puzzle piece. The entries before and after are about the clients she served as a midwife or the mundane details of an ordinary life. Johanna mostly wrote fondly of her husband and regarded Madeline Drake as her best friend. What Jamie doesn’t find are notes documenting Johanna’s deepest, darkest secrets or an affair with Wes Drake or anyone else. What had Dalton said?“What I don’t understand is why she would be with you, knowing what a monster you are.”
He checks the date of the torn entry. Two months ago. What was so important about this particular page? It’s odd that Johanna was so careful not to mention an affair on any of the other pages but seemingly poured out her soul on this one. He has an appointment with Wes later this afternoon, and he’ll ask him that very question. His phone vibrates, and he’s relieved to see the caller isn’t Tess but Greta. “Whatcha got for me?”
“Well, good morning to you too,” Greta says.“No, don’t worry, Greta. I’m just fine after my near-death experience the other day.”
“I am fine. Now, tell me what you found out.”
“A few interesting tidbits. Where do you want me to start?”
“How about with Dalton Monaghan?” Jamie says, reaching for a pen. “Anything new?”
“I was able to contact his supervisor at the wind turbine company he worked for, and he said he was an okay employee but a bit of a hothead. He wrote Monaghan up a few times for getting into it with a fellow coworker, but nothing too serious. Said he was more likely to punch a wall than a person. I also talked to his former lieutenant at the army recruitment center. Said he liked the guy well enough but mentioned that Monaghan was obsessed with firearms and munitions. And thatobsessedis a direct quote,” Greta says.
“That explains all the guns found in the home,” Jamie says, rubbing his forehead.
“Are you thinking Monaghan planted the bomb?” Greta asks.
“He certainly was angry enough, but we need a lot more than that to close this case,” Jamie says. “What else do you have for me?”
“How about another angry person?” she says, lightly. “Lucy Quaid, thirty-eight years old, owned a small horse farm in Lone Tree, Iowa, where she and her stepsister, Madeline Drake, were raised. Lucy is in the middle of a contentious divorce, no kids.”
“No kidding?” Jamie says. “Lone Tree, huh? Madeline and Wes Drake named their ranch after the town where the sisters grew up. Interesting.”
“No kidding,” Greta repeats. “And she’s broke. Not a little bit broke but had-to-sell-off-all-her-worldly-possessions broke. Lucy’s father died last month, and in his will Madeline was named the executor. Lucy has to go through her stepsister to get a penny. To top it all off, he left all his horses to Madeline.”
“So Lucy’s dad made his stepdaughter in charge of his daughter’s trust. That would be cause for hurt feelings. Maybe she’s come to Wyoming to ask her sister for more money?” Jamie muses. “Or maybe she came all this way to blow Madeline up and Johanna stepped on the IED by accident. If Madeline dies, who does the money go to? Does it revert to Lucy or go to Wes?”
“I’m still waiting for the Drake financials to come in, but I’m on it,” Greta says.
“Perfect,” Jamie says. “Anything else?”
“This may be a coincidence, but nonetheless interesting,” Greta says. “Before moving to Nightjar nine years ago, Johanna Monaghan née Mills moved around some. She lived inOhio, Mississippi, Minnesota, and West Virginia. And guess who else lived in West Virginia?”
Jamie sits up straighter in his seat. “Who?”
Greta pauses for dramatic effect. “Mellie Bauer.”
“The waitress?” Jamie asks.
“Yeah. At one point, they lived only about twenty miles away from one another.”
“You’re kidding.” His heart begins to thrum the way it does when he gets that one piece of information that might be the break in a case.
“Not kidding,” Greta says.
“How long ago?” He needs to have another chat with Mellie. He hears the shuffle of papers.
“Johanna moved there twelve years ago. Stayed for just under one,” Greta explains. “That’s when she moved to Ohio.”
“Twelve years,” Jamie repeats, his excitement extinguishing. “Mellie Bauer would have only been about nine years old then. Any other connections between the two of them?”
“Not that I can find. Yet,” Greta emphasizes. “But I’m still digging. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Anything on Sully and Mia Preston?” Jamie asks.
“I was saving the best for last,” Greta says. “At first glance, they appear richer than God—the house, the ranch, their business, the family money. But looking closer, it’s all one big facade.”