Page 58 of The Perfect Hosts
“It had to have been taken last night, while the two of us were sitting on the sofa.”
“Whoa,” Mellie says, “that’s kind of scary.”
“There were only two other people in the house last night, besides me and Trent,” she says, watching Mellie’s reaction closely. “So it had to have been you or Lucy.”
“Well, it wasn’t me, so it had to be Lucy,” Mellie says, dropping her tea bag into a mug. “Why would she do that?”
“I’m not sure,” Madeline says, not wanting to get into the details with this girl.
“I wasn’t going to mention anything,” Mellie says, dropping her voice to a whisper, “but I saw Lucy coming out of your bedroom.”
“Oh?” Madeline says. She doesn’t like the idea of Lucy snooping around the house, but she isn’t surprised.
“Wes was with her,” Mellie says as if uttering the words is painful. “It was before you came home from the hotel.” Madeline doesn’t respond, her brain is still trying to catch up with what Mellie is implying.
“But I didn’t actually see them doing anything,” Mellie says in a rush. “I’m sure it was nothing, but Lucy looked mad. Like I interrupted them.”
Madeline thinks about the way Wes and Lucy stood close to another, the overfamiliar touches, the stolen glances. Would Lucy really try to sleep with her husband just to get back ather? Was this the reason Wes didn’t want her to come home with him from the hotel? Was this all just some sick game? Madeline tries not to let the hurt show on her face.
“Hey there,” comes a voice, and both Madeline and Mellie whirl around.
“Wes,” Madeline says with surprise. “You’re back.”
“Yeah,” Wes says, eyeing Mellie, who is sitting at their kitchen counter. The skin above his swollen eye is shiny and tight and the color of a rotten banana. He hasn’t shaved in days, giving him a wild, grizzled look.
He pulls Madeline into a hug, and she tries not to go rigid beneath his embrace. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” she says. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I did. Lots of times,” he says shortly. “At the hotel. I thought you were staying there until I got back.”
“I decided to come home,” Madeline says. “You said we could come back in, and I didn’t like being cooped up in the hotel room. You’ve met Mellie, right?”
“I have,” Wes says, nodding at Mellie. “We met when I got back from the hospital. How long do you plan on staying with us?”
Though Wes’s question is ungracious, Madeline would like an answer too.
Mellie looks as if she wants to disappear into the floor. “Just a few more days, if that’s okay. I can move into my new place on Thursday. I can’t thank you enough,” Mellie says. “Really. You’re lifesavers.”
Lucy slinks into the room. “Wow,” she says. “This place is turning into a real bed-and-breakfast. How’s Dix doing?”
“Oh my God, yes,” Madeline says, not believing she has forgotten about Dix. “How is he?” And how did Lucy know before she did?
“Dix is lucky,” Wes says. “He’s minus a spleen and has lots of bumps and bruises, but he’s going to be okay.”
“That’s great news! Where is he?” Madeline asks.
“If you had answered the house phone, you’d know,” Wes says shortly again. “But he’s at a hospital in Salt Lake City. He’s getting out in a few days and will need to come and stay with us until he’s better.”
“Of course,” Madeline says. Wes is angry. She can see it in the tight line of his mouth, the way he holds his shoulders. “Look at all of us,” she says, “the walking wounded.”
Lucy laughs and holds out the flannel shirt. “I found this on the floor in the living room.” Madeline’s heart begins to thump in her chest. It’s Trent’s shirt. The one he wrapped around her last night to help her get warm. She’s taunting her. Lucy had to have been the one to have sent the photo of Madeline and Trent. Lucy is trying to stir up trouble.
Wes’s eyes narrow. “It’s not mine.”
“Oh, it must be Trent’s,” Madeline says lightly. “He’s been working on cleaning up the mess in the living room. He must have gotten hot and taken it off. I’ll give it to him.”
She reaches for the shirt, but Lucy holds onto it for a second longer, a silent tug-of-war between them. When Lucy releases the shirt, Madeline hears a soft jangle. Something is in the pocket of his shirt. Madeline reaches inside and pulls out an orange-tinted pill bottle. She glances at the label and sees Wes’s name. No, Madeline thinks. Not Trent. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t steal from them. Covertly, she slides the bottle back into her back pocket trying to keep the worry from her face.
Wes excuses himself by saying that Agent Saldano is coming to the ranch, and Mellie returns to the guest room. When Madeline is alone with Lucy, she produces the pill bottle. “What the hell, Lucy?” she says. “Why would you do this?”