Little Joe was three months old now and thriving. He was off the charts in height and weight. He was a Steel, all right.
Big and strong like his daddy.
I loved the feeling of nursing him. My nipples had long since healed from the chapped pain nursing had caused at the beginning. Now, as he tugged, I felt only the pure joy a mother can feel when she’s providing for her child.
Pure joy.
I strived to find the joy in every day—a promise I’d made to myself after my junior year of high school when I’d been hospitalized for anxiety and depression. I loved the sun, Mazie’s yellow tulips, animals of all kinds…but mostly I loved my baby. It was a new kind of love—something beautiful I’d never imagined before he was born.
I felt the most joy, of course, when Brad was here with me. Still, even though he was gone a lot of the time, I forced myself to find the joy in everything.
Every single thing.
Even the ominous note I’d gotten earlier.
Ominous note? What ominous note?
“Daphne?”
“Yeah?” I said to Mazie.
“Are you okay? You got kind of pale all of a sudden.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Had I lost time again? Why had I been in Brad’s office?
No.
No, no, no.
I would not allow myself to lose time again. It had happened a few times at college, a few times since then, but recently, since Joe’s birth, I could account for every second.
Until now.
Why had I been in Brad’s office?
He hadn’t said it was off limits, but I’d never gone in there before unless he was there. I must have had some reason—some reason that escaped me now.
Jonah finished eating and nodded off to sleep. I put him down in the nursery and retraced my steps to Brad’s office.
I’d been standing by his desk when I heard Jonah’s cry. That was when I realized where I was. But why had I been there in the first place?
Mazie said the doorbell rang. Sounded sort of familiar. Had I been in the office when it rang?
Think, Daphne, think!
Why did I come in here?
I scanned his desk. Nothing of interest to me. Then I looked around the office. Same as it always was. Well-kept, with a few file folders scattered around. Had I come in to look at one of the files?
I perused them quickly. They all pertained to the ranch. That was Brad’s domain. I had no idea how to run a ranch, so I wouldn’t have been looking for any of that information.
I sighed.
If Brad were here, he’d hold me, kiss the top of my head, and tell me everything was fine. That he’d take care of us and there was no reason to worry.
I worried anyway.
Thank goodness I had a session with Dr. Pelletier tomorrow. Perhaps he could help me get to the bottom of this.
Chapter Five
Brad
“Hello, Brad.”
“Hello, Wendy.”
“It’s nice to see you.”
You too. The words didn’t come out, though. I couldn’t make them. Hell, I didn’t even try, to be honest. It wasn’t nice to see her. Not at all.
She looked good, though. She’d cut her medium-brown hair into a short style a la Dorothy Hamill. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her blue eyes sparkled.
No medication today. Pelletier had warned me of that. She was off her meds and ready to be released into the world.
I just wasn’t sure the world was ready for her.
She was wearing street clothes, which surprised me. Jeans and a navy T-shirt. I’d expected a hospital gown or sweats or something.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’m good, Brad. I’m really good.”
Her tone seemed sincere, but I knew better than to take anything about Wendy at face value. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“I want you to know that I don’t hold a grudge against you. You know, for what you did.”
“What I did?”
“Yeah. You know, having me committed.”
“Your parents had you committed, Wendy. You pulled a gun on a guy. You’re lucky you weren’t arrested.”
“My parents.” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s what the papers say, but I know you were behind it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then why were you there the day they took me in?”
To make sure you went. To make sure you were out of commission so I could marry Daphne.
“I was coming to see you. That’s all.”
“I’m not stupid, Brad.”
No, she was far from stupid. She had a genius IQ. I’d come here to get her cooperation, so why was I lying to her? I was the only—the only one—she might actually listen to.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I was there because I wanted to make sure you got the help you needed.”
Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
“You put my parents up to it.”
“What if I did? You threatened a man at gunpoint. You were either going to prison or to a mental facility. Which would you have preferred?”
She lowered her eyelids. I almost thought she was feeling remorse. Was she? Or was she acting? You just never knew with Wendy.
“I’m sorry for that. I truly am.” Then she met my gaze. “How is Sean, anyway?”
How is Sean? Did she really just ask me that?
“He’s dead, Wendy.”
She gasped, turning pale. Was she truly surprised? Or was it an act?
Wendy never put on an act around me. Never. She always said exactly what she felt. So either she had changed and was acting, or she was actually surprised.
One or the other. I just wasn’t sure which.
“What happened?”
“He was drugged and poisoned.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
I couldn’t help myself. “Maybe someone who had threatened him with a deadly weapon in the past?”
“But…I’ve been here. When did this happen?”
“At my wedding, Wendy. It happened at my wedding.”
“He actually died at your wedding?”
“He passed out. He died several hours later at the ER.”
“Oh my God.” Her hands trembled as she rubbed her chin. “I was never going to hurt him, Brad. You have to believe me.”
“You know how to use a gun, Wendy. I taught you myself.”
“But I’m not a killer. I’m not. I swear to you. Did they find out who did this to Sean?”
“Did they? You mean the police? No, they haven’t, and neither have I.”
She nodded. “Of course. You and your father got PIs involved. That’s what you’d do.”
“That’s what we did. But now my father’s dead as well.” Might as well stick to the story.
She dropped her mouth open. “George? But he’s so young.”
“Young, but he smoked for years and struggled with emphysema. It was a heart attack that got him in the end.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Who would have told you? You were hospitalized.”
“But my parents… They came to see me every week. Why didn’t they— Oh.”