Chapter 22 #2
the family money. But looking closer, it’s all one big facade.”
Jamie perks up again. “What do you mean? The Prestons aren’t rich?”
“They have a shitload of stuff, but none of it’s theirs,” Greta says. “The house is mortgaged to the hilt, the acres of ranching
property actually belong to the Preston family estate, not specifically to Sully. The only thing that the Prestons own is
their horse-brokering business, which is millions of dollars in debt.”
Jamie lets this sink in. The huge house, the mini-golf course, the peacocks, all one bad horse-deal away from disappearing? “Thanks, Greta. You are truly the best.”
“I know. And call your wife,” Greta says into the phone before disconnecting.
He turns his attention to his computer and begins the tedious process of scouring cell-phone video footage from the party
gathered from the guests. The scene is festive, people are smiling, dressed in expensive Western wear—cowboy hats, rhinestones,
boots. And guns. Jamie sucks in a breath. So many guns. Waiters and waitresses mill about, offering drinks and appetizers.
He spots Mellie Bauer right away. She’s hard to miss with her brightly dyed red hair. He sees Madeline Drake and Johanna and
a fleeting glimpse of Wes. Jamie has to force himself to focus and takes a sip of the high-octane coffee that the office receptionist
handed him when he came in this morning.
Sully and Mia Preston appear on-screen, and Jamie shifts in his chair to get a closer look. Mia is carrying a present wrapped
in robin’s-egg blue gift wrap and topped with a big black bow. The two approach Madeline, who doesn’t look happy to see them.
Mia hands the gift to Madeline, who hands it right back to Sully and then turns away from them. The ultimate brush-off. The
video ends.
Jamie watches six more videos with nothing new until once again the package with the black satin bow appears in a clip of
a rodeo clown milling through the crowd, snagging cowboy hats off heads. This time the present is tucked under the arm of
Johanna Drake, a cell phone pressed against her ear. She veers to avoid a grab from the clown, and Jamie’s pulse quickens
with each step she takes. Off to the right is the table set up for the gifts, and off to the left is the storage barn. Johanna
goes left and steps into the barn, carrying the package.
Jamie sits back in his chair. Could this be it?
The smoking gun? The present that Mellie Bauer said Johanna had in the barn with her just before the explosion was the package that the Prestons tried to give to Madeline Drake.
By chance it ended up in the hands of Johanna, and a few minutes later she ended up dead.
It makes sense. According to Wes and Madeline, the Prestons were buying lame horses for cheap, drugging them to make them appear healthier and more docile than they really were and then selling them at a much higher price point.
The Prestons were in financial trouble, and the Drakes’ accusations about drugging the horses threatened the one part of their lives that was lucrative. Maybe the Prestons wanted revenge.
But there’s a lot more to figure out. He makes two calls. One to Sully Preston, ordering him to come into the sheriff’s office
right away or he’ll send a deputy out to bring him over, and then one to a judge who grants Jamie the warrant he needs so
they can search the Preston property.
“Agent Saldano,” the sheriff’s receptionist, Ruby, says from the doorway, “Wes Drake and his attorney are here to see you.”
“Put them in the interview room. I’ll be right there,” Jamie says but doesn’t get to his feet. Interesting that Wes felt the
need to bring his lawyer along, especially since the Drakes are the probable targets of the IED. He spends the next ten minutes
trying to read the blood-splattered journal entry and deciphers a few words or parts of words: arm, hos, use, Mad. He squints trying to read a section of the entry that isn’t covered in blood. The paper had been crumpled in Dalton’s hand
before he was shot, his sweat causing the ink to bleed some. Jamie tries to smooth the creases through the plastic bag, and
slowly a few more words come into focus. Words that in any context would be disturbing, but with Jamie’s history, even more
so.
From the lobby, Jamie hears an angry, insistent voice. “I don’t care if he’s busy,” Wes says loudly. “I want an update on
the case. Now.”
“Hey, Wes,” Jamie says, sliding the plastic bag holding the journal entry into a file folder and coming out of his office.
He heads to the lobby where Ruby is trying to corral Wes and a man in an expensive Italian suit into the interview room.
Wes’s lawyer, Jamie presumes. “Thanks for coming in. Let’s talk in here where we’ll have some privacy. ”
“This is bullshit,” Wes says, following Jamie into the small, cramped room. “We came here to be of help, and I don’t appreciate
being kept waiting.”
“I understand, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Wes,” Jamie says, then turns to the attorney and offers his hand. “Jamie
Saldano, ATF.”
“Franklin Stewart,” the man says, shaking Jamie’s hand with a strong grip. “I’m the Drake family attorney. I know Wes and
Madeline want to help in any way they are able.”
Jamie waits for the two men to sit in the hard-backed chairs and then takes a seat across the table from them. Wes, with his
swollen black eye, looks exhausted.
“How are you doing, Wes?” Jamie begins.
“Just give me the update,” Wes says impatiently. “They found my brother in a hospital in Salt Lake City, and once we’re done
here, I’m heading there.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Jamie says. “First of all, the investigation into the explosion and Johanna Monaghan’s death continue
to be a top priority of our agency.”
“But Dalton is the guy, right?” Wes asks. “He’s the one who planted the bomb.”
“We’re still gathering evidence, but Dalton Monaghan is a suspect,” Jamie says.
“A suspect?” Wes asks. “You mean he’s the suspect, right? You saw him the other day, the way he was ranting. He tried to kill me. You can’t think someone else is responsible
for the bomb.”
“Like I said,” Jamie says, evenly, “we’re still gathering evidence, and I have a few questions for you.”
“Sure, whatever you need,” Wes says. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Half of what Dalton was saying was nonsense.”
“Like you and Johanna having an affair? Was that nonsense?” Jamie asks.
“Of course,” Wes scoffs.
“Tell me about the barn,” Jamie says. “Do you keep it locked?”
“No. It’s just an old storage barn,” Wes explains. “It’s mostly filled with junk my brother and I have collected over the
years. There’s nothing of value in there.”
“But anyone could go in and out of it?” Jamie prods.
“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 of
I’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 after me, 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 coincidence that 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.