Chapter 24
Mellie
Morning light streams through the windows, and I scrunch my eyes shut, not wanting to wake up. It’s so quiet it’s almost unsettling.
There are no next-door neighbors arguing through the thin walls, no heavy feet thumping above my head. The mattress is just
the right amount of soft, and the sheets feel like silk against my skin. But I have to get up—I have work to do. I force my
eyes open and stretch, kicking the bed linens aside. I’ve never been in a home as beautiful as the Drakes’. It’s so different
than the tiny two-bedroom I grew up in, and definitely different than the one-bedroom efficiency I’ve been renting in town.
There it smells like whatever my neighbors cooked for dinner, and here it smells like mountain bluebells.
I crawl from bed and open the closet which is filled with more of Madeline’s clothes and piles of thick comforters and linens.
I look at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the inside of door and have to admit I look good in Madeline’s satin
pajama shorts and camisole. I wonder what Madeline would think if I walked into the kitchen wearing only this. Wonder what
Wes would think.
The surprised expression on Madeline’s face when I showed up at her door isn’t lost on me. I know that she hadn’t really meant
it when she told me to reach out if I needed anything. Anything at all. But she did offer, and that should count for something. I don’t like it when people say things they don’t mean. And sadly,
people do it all the time. I’ll see you on your birthday, munchkin. You can be anything you want to be if you work hard enough. Of course I love you, Mel. Different people, different promises that turned out to be lies. It’s unfair, wrong.
So, I probably should have let Madeline’s words remain as they were intended—an empty promise—but I am so tired of being lied
to for convenience or as a grand gesture. Not that I’m one to judge.
I dress in another outfit of Madeline’s, this time a loose-fitting cashmere sweater and a pair of soft jeans that I happen
to know cost more than a month’s rent, the shoes probably two months’, and step from the room. The house has a stillness about
it. Madeline must be out in the stables, and God knows where Lucy is. I feel a sense of righteous satisfaction knowing that
Madeline seems to prefer me over her own sister, and I try not to think too hard about what Wes will do when he finds out
I’m still here.
One thing is for sure, I need to get rid of Lucy for good. It doesn’t matter that the sisters seem to hate each other, Lucy
doesn’t trust me, and it’s making things more complicated. I creep up the stairs, knowing what I’m planning will be risky,
dangerous even. If I’m caught, Madeline will be so disappointed, and Lucy will kill me. I don’t even want to think about what
Wes will do.
At the top of the steps, I pause. What’s the endgame here?
I ask myself. Do I really think that Wes will leave his beautiful, smart, sweet, pregnant wife for a twenty-one-year-old waitress?
Maybe not, but I don’t plan on going down without a fight.
I hurry down the long hallway and slip into the bedroom Madeline shares with Wes.
My heart thumps, but I try to shake the unease away, reminding myself that I belong here.
Madeline told me I was welcome to borrow anything I needed.
If someone walks in on me, I’ll just say I’m searching for a sweatshirt or something.
I peek out the window and see Trent in the paddock exercising the horses. There’s no sign of Lucy or Madeline, and a zap of
anxiety runs through me. I have to hurry. I step away from the window and move to the closet. Shoes are in a jumble on the
floor along with a half a dozen outfits that look like they have been tried on and then tossed aside.
There’s a heavy safe sitting in the corner of the closet but no way for me to crack the code. I need to choose something more
readily available, something small, easy to transport. I step from the closet and see Madeline’s purse sitting on a chaise
lounge in the corner of the room and hesitate. Should I worry about fingerprints? Probably, but I decide it’s worth the chance.
Carefully, I lift Madeline’s wallet from the purse, and right away I’ve hit the jackpot. I pull out three crisp hundred-dollar
bills and tuck them into the pocket of my jeans and then move to the bathroom. I ease open one of the top drawers and find
a men’s razor, deodorant, Band-Aids. This must be Wes’s side of the bathroom. Next, I go to the cabinet beneath his sink,
crouch down, and find a wicker basket holding unopened tubes of toothpaste, a bottle of mouthwash, and an assortment of pill
bottles.
I lift an orange bottle from the basket and peer at the label. Oxycontin, prescribed three years earlier. I give the bottle
a little shake. This will do. I return to the master bedroom, roll the bills into a tight cylinder, and fit them into the
prescription bottle. I slide the bottle into my back pocket and tiptoe down the hallway toward the guest room. I lean in toward
the closed door, listening for any movement on the other side. Nothing. I tap on the wooden frame. “Lucy,” I call softly and
then once again more loudly. There’s no response. With shaky fingers, I reach for the knob.
I open the door and to my relief find the room empty.
Once inside, I shut the door and scan the space.
The bed is neatly made, and nothing seems out of place.
I check the closet and find Lucy’s Carhartt jacket hanging there.
Riffling through the front pockets I find a lint-covered stick of gum and a few coins and move to add the pill bottle to the mix but then reconsider.
No, chances are that Lucy would find it right away and figure out what I’m up to.
I scan the room again and turn my attention to the guest bed, lift the comforter, and shove the pill bottle beneath the mattress.
But this won’t work either. What are the chances that Madeline will find the bottle quickly?
I retrieve the bottle, spy a pair of Lucy’s jeans crumpled in a corner of the room, and pick them up.
I push the bottle into the back pocket of the jeans and will deposit them in the laundry room where Madeline will eventually find them.
Lucy will deny it, will argue, throw an epic fit, and hopefully, Madeline and Wes will throw her ass out the door.
Then I’ll have just two remaining obstacles in my way—Trent and Madeline.
Getting rid of Madeline will be more challenging, but I’m up to the task because, for once in my life, I’m going to get what I want.