Page 48 of The Perfect Hosts
“Yes, but there’s no reason anyone would want to.”
“Except to plant an IED?”
“Apparently,” Wes says.
Jamie opens the file folder and slides the bagged journal entry in front of Wes, who grimaces at the sight of the dried blood. “From Johanna Monaghan’s journal,” Jamie explains. “The section that Dalton ripped out and brought to your house in order to confront you. You can see Johanna wrote your name on the page a few times.”
Wes scans the document and shakes his head. “You’re going to have to help me out here. All I see is scrap of paper with blood all over it. What am I supposed to be seeing?” he asks, then looks to his attorney.
“Can we move things along here, Agent Saldano?” Stewart says. “Mr. Drake would like to get on the road and see his brother.”
“Of course,” Jamie says. “Right here.” Jamie taps the bottom of the page. “It’s a little hard to see, but if you look hard enough you can read what’s written.”
Wes squints down at the paper, then lifts the baggie, holding it up to the light. “Sorry, it’s too faint.” He pushes the bag back toward Jamie. “Why don’t you just read it for me?”
“Sure,” Jamie says. “You can clearly see your name written a few times on the page. Now, some of ink is smudged, but I think I get the gist of what Johanna wrote down here.Scared... Wes... make me disap...”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the attorney asks. “And what does it have to do with Wes?”
“We’ll send the it to the lab for testing,” Jamie says. “But to me it looks like Johanna wrote something to the effect ofI’m scared that Wes will make me disappear.”
The attorney snorts. “You got all that? Sorry, I don’t see it.” Jamie glances over at Wes, who is staring back, his eyes hard.
“So, Wes, did you ever tell Johanna Monaghan that you were going to make her disappear?” Jamie asks, holding Wes’s gaze.
“Of course not,” Wes says at the same time his attorney says, “Don’t answer that.”
“Did you have an affair with her, and perhaps she felt guilty and was going to tell your wife?”
“No, no,” Wes says. “I want to answer. I did not say anything like that to Johanna, just like I did not have an affair with her. Dalton went afterme, remember—”
“Wes,” the attorney says, “stop talking.” To Jamie he says, “Agent, this interview is over. Any further communications go through me.”
“Who’s your supervisor?” Wes blusters. “I want to talk to him.”
“You’re looking at him, Mr. Drake,” Jamie says. “We’ll talk again soon.”
Wes glares at Jamie but says nothing more, then turns and leaves the building, his attorney close at his heels. Jamie returns to his office, shuts the door. It’s most likely a coincidencethat the words in Johanna’s journal echo what happened in his own life: Juneau disappearing. Still, Jamie remembers what Dalton had told him the first time they had talked.The Drakes and people like them own more than land around here. Just you wait.Jamie may owe Wes his life, but he’s in charge of this investigation, no matter how powerful Wes thinks he is.
Chapter 23
Madeline
Madeline waited in the hotel room as long as she could but finally couldn’t stand it any longer. She wanted to go home, sleep in her own bed, see Pip and the horses.
When the Uber pulls up in front of the house, she steps from the back of the car and shivers. The night had snuffed away any remaining heat of the day, and the night air is cool against her skin. She rubs her arms to generate heat and hears a soft nicker and the shuffling of hooves. The moon is a milky yellow, casting an anemic glow over the ranch, and she squints, trying to see into the dark. Parked near the stables is a truck. More specifically, Lucy’s truck. Wes must have arranged to have the tire fixed. And hooked to the back of it is a horse trailer.
“Son of a bitch,” Madeline murmurs, shaking her head. Lucy really did plan on taking Sonnet with her when she left. A light burns in the stable. It’s probably Wes checking in on the animals. She’s nervous at what he’s going to say at her sudden appearance.
Cautiously, she approaches the house, stopping at the bottom of the porch steps. It looks abandoned, forlorn against the shadow of the mountain, and Madeline can see that someone has swept away the broken glass and boarded up the broken windows, but already there is a brand-new door in place. Shetests the knob and finds it locked and knows that the back door will most likely be locked too, so she’ll have to go find Wes in the barn or bother Trent.
“Fancy meeting you here,” comes a disembodied voice from the dark.
Fear clamps a tight fist around Madeline’s heart. She nearly tumbles backward down the steps before grabbing onto the porch railing and steadying herself.
“Jesus,” Madeline says, pressing shaking fingers against her chest. “What the hell are you doing out here in the dark?” In the weak moonlight, Madeline sees Lucy swaying gently on the porch swing. She’s holding something in her right hand, dark and shiny in the moonlight. A gun, the barrel pointing straight up toward the porch ceiling. Madeline’s legs are weak with fear as she watches Lucy lift the gun and tip it toward her lips.
Not a gun, Madeline realizes, relief flooding through her body. Lucy is holding a bottle of Sam Adams.