Page 64 of The Perfect Hosts
“Okay,” Dr. Raymond says, this time with some hesitation. “I’m not sure how I can help you with that.”
“This is where it gets a bit delicate,” Madeline says. “I want it to be a surprise for Mellie. I know if I told her, she would say not to go to any trouble. What I’m hoping to get from you is whether Mellie is having a girl or a boy.”
There’s silence on the other end.
“I’ve overstepped,” Madeline says. “I’m sorry. I just feel so bad for her. She doesn’t have any family here, and she was injured on our property, but I understand.”
“You just want to know the sex of the baby?” the doctor asks.
“Yes, please. She told me they did an ultrasound at the hospital, and the baby looked healthy. I just didn’t think to ask if she’s having a boy or girl.” Madeline holds her breath waiting for Dr. Raymond’s reply. She hopes the director is running through all the items that the Drake money has garnered for the maternity ward at the hospital over the years and what it still might procure.
“As luck will have it, I’m at the hospital right now,” Dr. Raymond says after a beat. “Hold on while I pull up her records. What’s her name again?”
Madeline tells her and waits.
“Hmmm,” Dr. Raymond says. “Are you sure that’s the correct spelling?”
“I think so,” Madeline says, remembering the news article she found. “B-a-u-e-r.”
“I’ve found a medical record for a Melanie Bauer, but I’m afraid she’s not pregnant.”
Madeline’s stomach sinks. “So that means she lost the baby in the explosion? How awful.”
“No,” Dr. Raymond says. “She made no mention to the medical staff that she was pregnant. In fact on the form, the box that asks the question was left blank, and the blood tests and urine sample taken that night indicate no pregnancy.”
“Are you sure?” Madeline asks, not wanting it to be true.
“I’m sorry, Madeline,” Dr. Raymond says. “It appears your friend was mistaken or perhaps was not being honest with you. I’d think twice before giving her any money or gifts.”
Madeline doesn’t know what to say, but finally lands on a rote reply, “Thank you, I appreciate your help,” and disconnects. She sits at her desk trying to figure out what to do with the information and bites back angry tears at the thought of being duped. Mellie lied. Lied about everything.
“What was that all about?” comes a voice from behind her. Madeline whirls around in her chair to find Mellie in the doorway, blocking her path. In her hand is a heavy ceramic mug filled with something hot, wisps of steam rising from its rim. It’s as if a completely different person is standing in front of her. Gone is the sweet girl who was down on her luck, now replaced by someone jaded and venomous. “Is there something you want to ask me about, Madeline?” Mellie asks. “Madeline?” she repeats, taking a step toward her, her eyes narrowed, her voice hard. “Do you have something you want to say?”
Chapter 31
Jamie
Jamie drives slowly down the deserted backroads outside of Nightjar, trying to decide what to do next. His horse ride with Wes has left him unbalanced, his head swimming with more questions than answers. Still, he’s come away certain that Wes is more complicit in Johanna’s death than he first thought possible. He pulls up Colson’s number and hits the Call button. It rings twice before Colson answers. “Hallo,” he says in that gruff manner Jamie remembers from when he was a kid.
“Sheriff, it’s J. J.,” Jamie says. “Are you still up for me coming over tonight? I want to get your take on a few things. About the case.”
“Everything okay?” Colson asks.
“Yeah, but I’ve learned a few things and just had the most bizarre conversation with Wes Drake.”
“About the barn? I thought he clammed up. Would only talk through his lawyer.”
“About the barn, about what I found on his phone. And about...” Does he really want to muddy the waters and bring up his sister’s case right now?
“Juneau?” Colson finishes for him. “It’s okay, J. J. I’ve been waiting for this conversation. I live on Killdeer Road, thirteen-oh-nine. It’s the green house. Come on over.”
“Okay,” Jamie says, his stomach fluttering with nerves. “I’m on my way.”
Colson’s home is on a quiet cul-de-sac not far from the sheriff’s office, where all the houses are built in the same craftsman style with their low-pitched gables, tapered columns, and covered front porches. Jamie easily finds the Colson house, painted green with a tidy lawn and surrounded by juniper. He parks on the street and steps from his vehicle to find Colson waiting for him on the porch, two bottles of beer in his hand.
With heavy legs, Jamie climbs the steps. “J. J.,” Colson says, handing him a bottle, sweaty with condensation. “Thought you might need one of these.”
“Thanks,” Jamie says, accepting the offering. Colson takes a seat on a patio chair and waves his hand, inviting Jamie to sit. Jamie chooses the chair next to the sheriff so that he doesn’t have to look him directly in the eye, picks up a plaid pillow from the seat, and sits. He takes a swig from the beer bottle, feeling only a little bit guilty for drinking while on duty.