Chapter 29 #2
“She agreed,” Wes says. “Well, she said she just hadn’t gotten around to completing the Wyoming licensing paperwork, but she
would.”
“And . . .” Jamie prods.
“I said I didn’t want her touching my wife until she did. She was fine when I left the barn.”
“But a few minutes later she was dead. How do you think that happened?” Jamie asks.
“My bet is on her husband,” Wes says. “You saw the way he was acting in the baby’s room. His accusations were ridiculous.
He attacked me. I thought you would have figured this all out by now.”
“Listen, Wes, I’m here to get to the truth, so if there’s anything else I need to know, it will be really helpful if you tell
me now.”
“I would if I could, Jamie,” Wes says. “No one wants this figured out more than I do.”
Jamie wants to believe him. He wants to believe that the boy who sat with him in the roadside ditch until help came is a good person, but Wes still hasn’t fessed up to the text message exchange with Johanna.
He decides to hold on to that information for the time being.
“Tell me about Mellie Bauer,” Jamie says.
“The waitress? Not much to tell. She worked the party.”
“But she’s staying at your house?”
“Yeah,” Wes says. “That’s sort of weird, but Madeline hasn’t met a stray cat that she doesn’t end up taking care of.”
Interesting choice of words. A crass, dismissive way of referring to another human being. Jamie doesn’t like it. “You didn’t
know her beforehand?”
“Me?” Wes asks. “No, not at all. Why? Do you think she had something to do with the explosion?”
“Just curious,” Jamie responds. “What about Johanna’s journal entry? Why would she mention you? Mention being scared and disappearing.”
“She probably was scared. I knew about her licensing. We’d talked about it more than once. I had threatened to go to the authorities
if she didn’t stop practicing. And disappearing? Maybe she was planning on taking off. If she was found out, she could have
been in big trouble.”
Wes is slick, has an answer for everything.
They ride along in silence, Jamie noting that they were a good hour into the ride, and the well-worn trail that they had been
on earlier has all but disappeared into the tall grass. He has no idea how to get back to the ranch on his own and can only
hope that his cell phone still has reception if he needs it. They move upward, the air cooling slightly against his skin.
They leave the meadow behind, and a rocky trail appears along with tall, slender lodgepole pines and white-bark aspens with
their trembling leaves. A nagging ache gnaws at his lower back, and he holds tight to Nell’s reins as she picks her way across
the uneven path.
“It’s starting to get late,” Jamie says, looking around and noting how the earlier intensity of the sun has now eased, giving the meadow behind them a buttery glaze.
“We’ll turn around in a few minutes,” Wes says. “I just want to show you something first.” They plug onward and are swallowed
up by a wall of ponderosa pines that soar a hundred feet into the sky. The air around them darkens and cools, and shadows
patch the forest floor beneath their feet. Alarm bells ring in Jamie’s head. He’s in the middle of a mountain forest with
a man he suspects may have murdered someone, and no one knows where he is. The only things keeping him moving forward are
the gun in his shoulder holster and the cell phone in his jacket pocket. “Almost there,” Wes says, just as the pines abruptly
end and Nell steps out into an open field filled with heavy-headed yellow flowers. Jamie hears the rumble of a vehicle and
scans the horizon for its source and spots a black pickup truck kicking up a cloud of dust. The dizzying sensation of déjà
vu nearly sends him tumbling from his saddle. “Come on,” Wes says, digging his heels into his horse’s ribs, “follow me.”
Tentatively, Jamie prods Nell forward, and she takes off into a rolling canter that clacks his teeth together. Up ahead, Jamie
sees that Wes has come to a stop at the edge of a gravel road, and realization washes over him. He yanks back on the reins,
and Nell comes to a skidding stop, nearly sending him flying headfirst over the saddle horn.
“Whoa,” Jamie says belatedly, trying to catch his breath. Wes has taken him to the same stretch of road he’d walked along
just a few nights before, the same stretch of road where Wes had found him twenty-seven years before.
“J. J. Archer,” Wes says, taking his cowboy hat off his head, and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “When were you going
to tell me you were back in town?”
Jamie can’t speak. How did Wes know? There was no way he would have recognized Jamie. He was nothing like the twelve-year-old boy he used to be, physically, anyway. Back then, he was a good twelve inches shorter and a good deal lighter, and his face was swollen as a rotten melon.
Wes looks Jamie up and down, a polite smile on his face. “It took me a while to figure it out. There was just something so
familiar about you, but I couldn’t quite place it. Then I did a little research. Why didn’t you say anything the other night
at the hospital?”
Wes reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out two bottles of water and extends one to Jamie. Jamie twists the lid and takes
a long drink, draining half the bottle before speaking.
“I didn’t think it was relevant.” Even to his own ears the explanation sounds weak.
“Of course it’s relevant, J. J.,” Wes says. “We shared a very intense moment in our lives. I’m just glad I was there to help.”
“It’s Jamie,” he replies. “And I’m grateful you found me that day.”
“You know, I always wondered what happened to you,” Wes says, taking a drink from his own bottle. “It’s pretty cool to think
that you were inspired to go into law enforcement after what happened to your sister. Police officer, ATF agent, and now a
supervisor. You’ve had lots of accolades over the years. Impressive. And your wife. She’s been pretty successful in her own
right. Too bad she’s had so much trouble finding work since you’ve moved here.”
Jamie freezes. Wes has been researching his wife?
“You know, I could help with that,” Wes says. “I could put in a good word. Tess could have her pick of jobs.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jamie snaps. “Tess is fine.” He doesn’t like that Wes has been digging into their lives, and his
offer to help Tess get a job feels more like a transaction than an act of goodwill. He needs to take back control of the conversation.
“I didn’t realize you knew my sister, Juneau, Wes.”
“Your sister?” Wes says. “No. I didn’t know her.”
“That’s strange,” Jamie says. “Lots of people I’ve talked to report that you and Juneau were quite friendly.”
Wes shakes his head. “They must be mistaken. But after learning about her, I wish I did. It sounds like she was a great person.”
“She was,” Jamie says. “She was the best.”
“And to think thirty years later, you’re back in Nightjar and ended up saving my life,” Wes says, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Technically, it was Sheriff Colson who saved your life,” Jamie counters.
“No, it was you,” Wes insists. “If you hadn’t shown up at the house when you did, who knows what would have happened to me,
to Madeline.”
“I guess we can call it even now,” Jamie says.
“I don’t think it works like that,” Wes says. “Do you? I owe you, Jamie. I will always owe you. You saved me, but more importantly,
you saved my wife and baby, and that means I’ll always be there for you, just like I know you’ll be here for me.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Jamie says firmly.
“You met my dad, right, Jamie?” Wes asks, and Jamie is thrown by the shift in topic.
Jamie had met the elder Drake, but wants to keep the conversation on Johanna’s death so he lies. “Your dad?” Jamie says. “No,
I don’t think so. We lived here for such a short time, I didn’t get the chance to meet a lot of people.”
“He visited you in the hospital. After. He wanted to see the boy his son found in a ditch.”
“I don’t remember,” Jamie says. “I was really in no condition to remember much of anything.”
“He was shocked by how you looked,” Wes says. “The extent of your injuries. And he felt so sorry for your mom. He wanted to
help you both.”
“What do you mean?” Jamie is almost afraid of the answer.
“Your mom wanted to get out of Nightjar. Moving is expensive. My dad wanted to see you both have a fresh start after something so traumatic.”
“Your dad paid for us to move?” Jamie says in disbelief. His mother never said anything.
“He did,” Wes says. “He also created a little college scholarship fund. It went to a young man who lived in San Antonio who
has gone on to a very successful career in law enforcement.”
Jamie can’t breathe. Wes Drake’s father paid for his college tuition? He thought he had earned that scholarship fair and square.
“It appears my father and my wife had a lot in common,” Wes says. “Taking care of strays and all. Now, come on,” Wes says,
patting Jamie on the back. He takes Jamie’s empty water bottle and stows it in his saddlebag. “We need to go back now. It
will be dark soon. Oh, and say hi to your boss for me. Linton Sykes and I go way back. In fact, I owe him a phone call, and
I’ll be sure to mention what a good job you’re doing here, Jamie.”
Wes heads back toward the ponderosa pines, and Jamie follows behind, his pulse pounding in his head. Though Wes said he only
recently realized who Jamie is, Jamie is convinced that Wes has known all along. The more Jamie learns about Wes Drake, the
more he’s sure he’s behind the barn explosion. Now he has to prove it.