Chapter 30
Madeline
Carrying the flannel shirt, Madeline stops by the stables to see Trent. She knew he would never steal from them, never betray
them like that. She doesn’t trust Lucy, and she doesn’t trust Mellie, so Madeline needs to get him safely away from here,
at least for the time being. She tells him that Wes wants him to drive over to Spearfish and deliver the gelding to a family
there.
“Right now?” Trent asks. “I’m not leaving you here all alone with that lot.” He nods toward the house.
“Please,” Madeline says, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ve got it under control, and I really think it’s for the best.”
“No way,” Trent says, shaking his head. “With all that’s been going on, you need an extra pair of eyes around here. I’m staying.
Just holler, and I’ll come running. Got it?” Madeline gives a reluctant nod.
She returns to the house to find Mellie in the dining room and covertly watches as she runs her hand across the $25,000 walnut-and-resin dining room table, examining the artwork.
Mellie, who earlier had been limping around with shoulders hunched as if in pain, has suddenly gotten the spring back in her step.
She walks around the room, turning on and off the gas fireplace, then pauses at the built-in liquor cabinet.
Mellie looks over her shoulder, and Madeline ducks out of sight before peeking around the doorjamb to see the girl picking up a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle bourbon—the expensive stuff.
Mellie quickly grabs a shot glass, pours a finger and tosses it back, then pours another.
After downing it, she wipes the rim of the glass with her shirt—Madeline’s shirt—and returns it to the shelf.
Strange, Madeline thinks, for someone who is pregnant. She wants to confront her but doesn’t. She’s not afraid of Mellie,
exactly, but the young woman unsettles her, and the uneasiness at having her in their house continues to grow, but Madeline
doesn’t quite know how to get rid of her. Whenever she broaches the subject, Mellie assures her she has something in the works
and will be leaving soon.
Madeline quietly retreats to the home office and takes a seat in front of the computer. She tries all the major social media
sites but finds nothing. She then types Mellie’s name into Google, and an entry for a Millie Bauer appears. Not who she’s
looking for. Mellie could be short for Melanie so she tries it, and this time dozens of pages of results pop up. She clicks
on the Images tab and begins to sort through the photos. Finally, she finds a picture that matches the Mellie she knows.
Madeline clicks on the link, and it takes her to a newspaper article from what looks like a small-town paper in West Virginia
with the headline Valedictorian to attend Dartmouth College. So Mellie was the valedictorian of her class. But how did she end up in Nightjar rather than the hallowed halls of Dartmouth?
The article is brief and ends with a quote.
“I’m so proud of my daughter, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for her.
” The quote is attributed to a Veronica Bauer.
Madeline has to reread the sentence two more times.
Is Veronica Bauer Mellie’s mother? Hadn’t Mellie told her in the ambulance that her mother died when she was little?
Madeline examines the accompanying photo closely.
It shows a woman with her arm around Mellie, and the caption reads “Mellie and Veronica Bauer.” The woman is a carbon copy of Mellie, though about thirty years older.
This is Mellie’s mother, Madeline is sure of it. So
why did she lie?
“You are never going to believe this,” Wes says, coming into the office. Madeline quickly clicks out of Google and turns in
her chair.
“How was your ride with Agent Saldano? Everything okay?” she asks, watching him carefully, trying to gauge his mood. He’s
holding a large glass of bourbon.
He looks at Madeline and gives a bitter laugh. “This week has been anything but okay. Is that waitress still here?” he asks.
“Mellie?” Madeline asks. “Yeah, she’s still here, but not for long,” she says, unable to keep the edge out of her voice. Once
she’s done talking with Wes, she’s going to confront Mellie and send her on her way, no matter the sob story she gives.
“Good,” Wes says, taking a drink. “And guess who Agent Saldano turned out to be?”
“Agent Saldano?” Madeline asks. “Who?”
“Kid who lived here a long time ago,” Wes says. Not a good sign, Madeline thinks. “His sister disappeared, and I found him
in a ditch the next morning. Had the shit kicked out of him. It was fucking awful.”
“You found him?” Madeline asks. “Did they find the sister?”
“They never did,” Wes says. “And now the girl’s brother is back, and he’s a fucking ATF agent. Can you believe it?”
Madeline sits with this information for a moment. Wes has never told her this story before. Why? “No,” she finally says. “It’s
hard to believe. Why didn’t you mention it before?”
“It was a long time ago,” Wes says dismissively, but Madeline can see by the look on his face that he is shaken. “I was a
senior in high school.”
“But it was a huge event, Wes,” Madeline says, “I wish you had told me.”
“I couldn’t talk about it, not for a long time,” he says.
“And it’s still hard. It was horrible. I was just riding my horse one morning and nearly stepped on this half-dead kid.
His face was like something from a horror movie.
His nose and jaw were broken, his eyes swollen shut, blood everywhere.
I thought he was dead, and then suddenly he starts moaning.
I nearly shit my pants. I had nightmares about it for years. I still do.”
Madeline shivers at the image Wes has conjured. She knows he has nightmares. She’s the one who pulls him close at night when
he cries out in his sleep, sweaty and disoriented, unwilling to tell her what he’s dreaming about. “Then, talk to me about
it,” Madeline urges gently. “It might make things better. You know you can tell me anything.”
Wes’s eyebrow rises, and the implication is clear. He doesn’t trust her. Not quite. But why? She has only ever tried to make
him happy, to be supportive and positive, even when she shouldn’t. The ridiculous gender reveal party, for instance. Wes was
the one who insisted on hiring the party planner—ostensibly to make it easier on Madeline—but she knew better. She would have
ordered a cake that, when cut into, would be dyed either blue or pink. That would never have been enough of a spectacle for
Wes, wouldn’t have impressed their friends and neighbors.
“How did you figure out it was him?” she asks, tamping down her frustration.
“I did some checking. He goes by his mom’s last name now, but it’s definitely him,” Wes says, draining the rest of his glass.
“I’m going upstairs,” he says abruptly. “I’m beat. And it looks like Dix will be released from the hospital tomorrow afternoon
or maybe the next day. I’ll have to head back to Salt Lake City to get him.”
Madeline has so many questions for Wes about finding the agent, about finding his brother, but it seems Wes is done for the
night. “I’ll be up soon,” Madeline says, getting to her feet and kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” he says wearily and leaves the room.
Madeline sits back down at her desk, her mind buzzing. There is too much to process. Johanna and Dalton are dead. Wes saved
Agent Saldano’s life. Lucy arriving at the ranch. And if Mellie lied about her mother, what else has she been untruthful about?
Madeline rarely uses Wes’s family connections to get what she wants, but this time it seems warranted. The Drake family are
big donors to the hospital in Jackson, even have a wing named after them, and Madeline’s hoping this might carry some influence.
It’s after seven, but Madeline dials the hospital’s director of obstetrics.
“Hello,” comes a female voice.
“Dr. Raymond,” Madeline says, trying to keep the nervousness from her voice, “it’s Madeline Drake.”
“Madeline!” the doctor says. “Are you okay? Is everything all right with the baby?”
“Yes, yes,” Madeline says in a rush. “I’m fine, and so is the baby. Thank you again for checking in with us the other night.”
“Of course,” she says. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m sorry to call you on your personal cell,” Madeline begins, “but I have a favor to ask.”
“Certainly,” she says. “I’ll help if I can.”
“A young girl was injured in the explosion the other night,” Madeline explains. “We came to the hospital in the same ambulance.
She’s pregnant too, and we really bonded over the whole terrible experience. I really want to do something nice for her. I
got the sense that she doesn’t have the means for adequate pre- and postnatal care, and Wes and I would like to make sure
that isn’t one of her worries.”
“That’s so kind of you,” the doctor says. “I’m happy to set something up through the business office” if you’d like.”
“Yes, thank you,” Madeline says. “But there’s one more thing I’m hoping you can help with.
” Madeline knows that the chances of this working are slim, but she pushes as much confidence into her voice that she can.
“I’d also like to order Mellie a crib and bedding and all sorts of nursery items so she’s good to go once her baby comes. ”
“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?”