Page 63 of The Perfect Hosts
“How was your ride with Agent Saldano? Everything okay?” she asks, watching him carefully, trying to gauge his mood. He’s holding a large glass of bourbon.
He looks at Madeline and gives a bitter laugh. “This week has been anything but okay. Is that waitress still here?” he asks.
“Mellie?” Madeline asks. “Yeah, she’s still here, but not for long,” she says, unable to keep the edge out of her voice. Once she’s done talking with Wes, she’s going to confront Mellie and send her on her way, no matter the sob story she gives.
“Good,” Wes says, taking a drink. “And guess who Agent Saldano turned out to be?”
“Agent Saldano?” Madeline asks. “Who?”
“Kid who lived here a long time ago,” Wes says. Not a good sign, Madeline thinks. “His sister disappeared, and I found him in a ditch the next morning. Had the shit kicked out of him. It was fucking awful.”
“You found him?” Madeline asks. “Did they find the sister?”
“They never did,” Wes says. “And now the girl’s brother is back, and he’s a fucking ATF agent. Can you believe it?”
Madeline sits with this information for a moment. Wes has never told her this story before. Why? “No,” she finally says. “It’s hard to believe. Why didn’t you mention it before?”
“It was a long time ago,” Wes says dismissively, but Madeline can see by the look on his face that he is shaken. “I was a senior in high school.”
“But it was a huge event, Wes,” Madeline says, “I wish you had told me.”
“I couldn’t talk about it, not for a long time,” he says. “Andit’s still hard. It was horrible. I was just riding my horse one morning and nearly stepped on this half-dead kid. His face was like something from a horror movie. His nose and jaw were broken, his eyes swollen shut, blood everywhere. I thought he was dead, and then suddenly he starts moaning. I nearly shit my pants. I had nightmares about it for years. I still do.”
Madeline shivers at the image Wes has conjured. She knows he has nightmares. She’s the one who pulls him close at night when he cries out in his sleep, sweaty and disoriented, unwilling to tell her what he’s dreaming about. “Then, talk to me about it,” Madeline urges gently. “It might make things better. You know you can tell me anything.”
Wes’s eyebrow rises, and the implication is clear. He doesn’t trust her. Not quite. But why? She has only ever tried to make him happy, to be supportive and positive, even when she shouldn’t. The ridiculous gender reveal party, for instance. Wes was the one who insisted on hiring the party planner—ostensibly to make it easier on Madeline—but she knew better. She would have ordered a cake that, when cut into, would be dyed either blue or pink. That would never have been enough of a spectacle for Wes, wouldn’t have impressed their friends and neighbors.
“How did you figure out it was him?” she asks, tamping down her frustration.
“I did some checking. He goes by his mom’s last name now, but it’s definitely him,” Wes says, draining the rest of his glass. “I’m going upstairs,” he says abruptly. “I’m beat. And it looks like Dix will be released from the hospital tomorrow afternoon or maybe the next day. I’ll have to head back to Salt Lake City to get him.”
Madeline has so many questions for Wes about finding the agent, about finding his brother, but it seems Wes is done for the night. “I’ll be up soon,” Madeline says, getting to her feet and kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he says wearily and leaves the room.
Madeline sits back down at her desk, her mind buzzing. There is too much to process. Johanna and Dalton are dead. Wes saved Agent Saldano’s life. Lucy arriving at the ranch. And if Mellie lied about her mother, what else has she been untruthful about?
Madeline rarely uses Wes’s family connections to get what she wants, but this time it seems warranted. The Drake family are big donors to the hospital in Jackson, even have a wing named after them, and Madeline’s hoping this might carry some influence. It’s after seven, but Madeline dials the hospital’s director of obstetrics.
“Hello,” comes a female voice.
“Dr. Raymond,” Madeline says, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice, “it’s Madeline Drake.”
“Madeline!” the doctor says. “Are you okay? Is everything all right with the baby?”
“Yes, yes,” Madeline says in a rush. “I’m fine, and so is the baby. Thank you again for checking in with us the other night.”
“Of course,” she says. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m sorry to call you on your personal cell,” Madeline begins, “but I have a favor to ask.”
“Certainly,” she says. “I’ll help if I can.”
“A young girl was injured in the explosion the other night,” Madeline explains. “We came to the hospital in the same ambulance. She’s pregnant too, and we really bonded over the whole terrible experience. I really want to do something nice for her. I got the sense that she doesn’t have the means for adequate pre- and postnatal care, and Wes and I would like to make sure that isn’t one of her worries.”
“That’s so kind of you,” the doctor says. “I’m happy to set something up through the business office” if you’d like.”
“Yes, thank you,” Madeline says. “But there’s one morething I’m hoping you can help with.” Madeline knows that the chances of this working are slim, but she pushes as much confidence into her voice that she can. “I’d also like to order Mellie a crib and bedding and all sorts of nursery items so she’s good to go once her baby comes.”