Chapter 29
Jamie
Jamie stares at the photograph on the computer screen of Wes stepping into the barn minutes before it exploded with Johanna
inside. It wasn’t Dalton Monaghan like Mellie Bauer reported. Had she been confused? Add in Johanna’s journal entry and the
text messages on her phone, things aren’t looking good for Wes. Could the same person who saved him decades earlier also be
capable of murder?
He knows he’s fucked things up coming to Nightjar. And all for what? Because he couldn’t let the past go? Because he couldn’t
let his missing sister—no, dead sister—rest in peace? Because she has to be dead.
Well, that’s harsh, Juneau whispers in his ear, and he brushes away the tickle. Jamie needs to get out of this office, think about something
else for a few minutes. He backtracks and grabs the yearbook that Laura Holt gave him.
“Ruby,” he says, “I’m going to grab a bite to eat and then head over to the Drake ranch. Call if you need anything.”
“Sure thing,” she says.
Jamie hurries to his car, climbs inside, and pulls out his notebook to review what he knows about Mellie Bauer.
Twenty-one years old, moved to Nightjar months ago, waitresses for a catering company that worked the Drake gender reveal.
Mellie is pregnant and was intent on talking to Johanna about being her midwife, and both seem to have had an overly familiar relationship with Wes Drake.
More coincidences? Maybe. His brain is so muddled, he’s not thinking straight.
Always a dangerous thing. He starts the car and peels out of the parking lot, narrowly missing a vehicle pulling in.
Jamie grabs a gas station hamburger and a pop and eats while he drives to the ranch. Jamie tries Tess again, and it goes straight
to voicemail. He knows he’s been an asshole, and now Tess is punishing him by freezing him out. Do you blame her? It’s Juneau again, sitting in the passenger seat, arm out the open window trying to catch the breeze in her cupped hand.
Here you’ve been walking down memory lane, while your poor wife has been at home waiting for you to call.
Jamie rolls up the window, cranks “Even Flow” by Pearl Jam, and tries to ignore his sister.
Once at the ranch, Jamie moves toward the stables and finds Wes saddling a sway-backed butterscotch-colored horse with soft,
sleepy eyes. Another horse, this one black-and-white and all muscle, is already saddled and pawing at the ground as if itching
to get moving.
“Agent Saldano,” Wes says. “Madeline mentioned you haven’t had the opportunity to ride a horse before, and I thought it would
be a shame if you left Nightjar without getting the chance.”
This is not what Jamie anticipated when he walked into the stables. Though the words are friendly enough, there’s an edge
to Wes’s voice.
“After we talked the other day, I got the impression you were done speaking with me, especially without your lawyer. Did something
change, Wes?” Jamie asks.
“I’m sorry about that. A bomb was planted in my barn, and my wife’s best friend was killed,” Wes says, looking appropriately
contrite. “I want to find out what happened on our property more than anyone.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Jamie explains. “Let’s talk.”
“But let’s do it while we ride,” Wes says. “And don’t worry, Nell here is a big old softy,” he says, tightening the saddle straps. “You won’t have to do a thing but go along for the ride. What do you say?” He has a smile on his face, but his eyes are hard and locked on Jamie’s face.
Jamie stares right back. He knows that going off into the mountains with a possible murder suspect is not advisable, especially
since Jamie isn’t familiar with the area and has never been on a horse before, but he finds that he wants to. He wants this
time with Wes, to hear how he’ll explain the photos of him entering the barn just before the explosion. And Wes doesn’t know
that Jamie has Johanna’s phone, that he knows about the phone calls and texts between the two of them. Jamie has the chance
to catch Wes in a lie, to dig a hole deeper than the one he’s already in.
“Sure,” Jamie says. “Sounds fun.”
“Wes, you’ve got a call on the landline,” Madeline says as she walks toward them. She’s moving slowly, her hands cradling
her belly as if holding it up. She looks uncomfortable and exhausted.
“Take a message,” Wes says shortly. “I told you I didn’t want to be interrupted.”
“But it’s Franklin,” she says. “You always take calls from him. He’s been trying your cell, but it’s been going straight to
voicemail.”
So Wes has been avoiding his attorney’s phone calls, Jamie thinks. Why? And why would Wes agree to talk to a member of law
enforcement without his lawyer present?
“Hold on a sec,” Wes says, and he walks Madeline back toward the house, one arm around her waist as he talks a steady stream
into her ear. Jamie can’t hear what he’s saying, but Madeline seems to wilt with each step.
“You sure you don’t want to take that call?” Jamie offers when Wes returns. “I’m happy to wait.”
“Nah,” Wes says. “I want you to have my undivided attention.” He leads Jamie and the horses out to the paddock and gives him an abbreviated riding lesson, showing him how to approach Nell calmly, how to stand on her left side and use the mounting block to step into the stirrup and swing his leg over her back and settle into the saddle.
“Make sure you sit up straight and hold the reins with a light grip,” Wes says.
“Relax. She won’t take off on you. Now, to get her to walk, squeeze your legs together.
” Jamie presses his knees into Nell’s side, but the horse doesn’t move.
“She won’t break,” Wes laughs. “Harder. Show her who’s in charge.” Jamie tries again, and still Nell stays put. “Well, look
who’s acting like a little bitch,” Wes says, and Jamie doesn’t know if he’s addressing the horse or Jamie. “Get,” Wes orders,
and using the palm of his hand strikes Nell on the rump, and the horse surges forward. Jamie’s teeth clank together as the
horse gallops from the paddock and toward the mountains. After what feels like an eternity, Wes catches up with him.
“Now, to get him to stop,” Wes says, “pull back on the reins, and say whoa. Just like in the movies.”
“Whoa,” Jamie says, and to his relief Nell stops.
“You got it,” Wes says. “I’ll show you more as we ride.”
They start off again, and Nell ambles along at a leisurely pace. They pass the charred remnants of the blown-up barn and the
mangled entrails of the truck and head toward the mountains.
The afternoon is warm, and Jamie likes the feel of the sun on his head and the smooth four-beat rhythm of Nell’s hooves striking the ground.
The mountains cut jaggedly into the crystalline blue of the sky, and the air smells like pine needles.
They cross a shallow creek where the horses dip their heads to drink, and Wes explains to Jamie how to maneuver his horse to the left and to the right and warns him to keep an eye out for rattlesnakes.
Jamie turns his head sharply to Wes to see if he’s serious.
It appears he is. It’s a good thirty minutes into their ride before Wes pulls back on his reins and brings his horse to a stop.
It takes Jamie a few tries to get Nell to do the same, then another few moments to bring her back to where Wes is waiting.
“This is as good a place as any to talk about the case,” Wes says. “Do you have an update?”
Jamie decides to jump right in. “I reviewed the pictures and video from the party, Wes. And you omitted one very important
detail when we first talked. You followed Johanna into the barn a few minutes before the explosion. Why?” Jamie watches him
closely for a reaction.
Wes removes his cowboy hat and scratches his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding like he means it. “At first, it honestly
escaped my mind.”
Jamie is skeptical. How can someone forget that they were in a structure that minutes later exploded, killing a woman and
injuring dozens of others? But Jamie doesn’t contradict Wes, just waits for him to go on. “When I did remember, I thought
it would seem suspicious that I didn’t tell you right away. And it didn’t matter. I mean, I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Everything matters in a murder investigation,” Jamie says sternly. “Why were you going into the barn?”
Jamie expects Wes to say that it’s his barn. That he was just going inside to check on something or grab something, not to
rendezvous with his wife’s best friend. Instead Wes says, “To talk to Johanna.” Jamie can’t hide his surprise, and Wes rushes
on to explain. “I asked her to meet me there.”
“What for?”
“I was going to fire her,” Wes says, shaking his head.
“I didn’t think she was good for Madeline.
I did some checking up on her, and it turns out she wasn’t really a midwife.
She had all the education and accreditation, but she never applied for a license to practice in Wyoming.
She’d been practicing here for nine years.
I thought she was sketchy as hell, but Madeline loves her.
Loved her. And I didn’t want to hurt Madeline or embarrass Johanna.
I told her I wanted her to resign from being Madeline’s midwife
and to stop practicing, and if she didn’t I’d go to the sheriff about it.”
Jamie thinks of the text messages he found between them on Johanna’s phone. What had Johanna said? Nothing you say will change a damn thing. Fuck you. I’m finished. From what he can recall, in this new light, their texts match Wes’s narrative—an angry husband trying to protect his wife
from malpractice. Unfortunately, Johanna wasn’t around to confirm this narrative. And what had Wes texted in return? I don’t want you anywhere near me or my wife . . . you’ll regret it.
“What did Johanna say when you confronted her in the barn?” Jamie asks. Wes clicks his tongue and his horse starts walking
again, and Jamie taps his heels urging Nell to move forward too.