time. Come on.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Brad
“Wendy’s not here,” Warren Madigan said after he opened the door.
I cleared my throat. “I’m actually here to see you.”
“Oh? Come on in. It’s always good to see you.”
“Is your wife home?”
“Yeah.” He turned. “Marie! Brad Steel’s here.”
Marie Madigan, nearly a dead ringer for Wendy but with a few gray hairs and wrinkles, came running. “Oh, God, is Wendy all right?”
“She’s fine,” I said.
“Thank goodness,” she said. “How are you, Brad?”
“I’m good.”
“What can we do for you?” Warren asked.
“Can we sit?”
The Madigans lived in town. Townies, to a rural kid like me. I was the odd man out of our little group in high school. The country kid with money. The others, except for Wendy, all lived in the city—what we in Snow Creek called Grand Junction. Warren Madigan owned an auto repair shop, and Marie was the local school secretary. Wendy had gone to Tejon Prep by way of a large scholarship due to her genius IQ.
“Sure.” Marie led us into the small living room and gestured to the sofa.
I sat down, and they sat across from me in two chairs.
“What is it?” Warren asked.
“It’s Wendy,” I said. “I think she needs…help.”
Marie sighed. “We’ve tried, Brad.”
“I know you have.”
“You’re the only one who can get through to her, son,” Warren said. “Maybe if you tell her.”
“That won’t work,” I said. “I’ve tried as well. I think you may have to consider having her committed.”
“How can we do that?” her mother asked. “She’s over eighteen.”
“Besides,” Warren said, “what has she done this time?”
“She’s stalking my new girlfriend, for one.”
“Oh.” Warren shook his head. “So it’s really over this time, then?”
“I’m sorry, Warren,” I said, “but it’s been over for a while.”
“Not according to Wendy.”
“Wendy sees things in her own way,” I said. “You both know that.”
“It’s her high intelligence,” Warren said. “The child psychologist who tested her when she was little told us to expect some differences in her.”
Marie sniffled. “I always hoped, Brad, that you and she…”
“I’m sorry, Marie, but Wendy and I aren’t in love.”
“Maybe you aren’t in love,” she said. “Wendy is.”
I shook my head. “She’s not. What Wendy and I had was never love. It was infatuation, puppy love. We were kids. We’ve grown up, and what we had no longer works.”
“This new girl you’ve found,” Warren said. “Is she anything like Wendy?”
Interesting question. Daphne was intelligent, though I doubted she was a crazy genius like Wendy. “I don’t see how that’s any concern,” I said.
“Brad,” Warren said, “Marie and I have always liked you. We know our daughter. She’s a handful. But you were always so good at handling her.”
“She’s more than I can handle now. I’ll graduate in May and begin the process of taking over the ranch. I can’t do that and continue to deal with Wendy.”
“We can’t expect him to take over our problems, Warren,” Marie said.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” he said. “Wendy’s a grown woman. She’s no longer anyone’s problem but her own.”
“That’s the way we all need to think of it,” I told them. “She and I no longer have a relationship. I wanted to come here and tell you in person, because I know she won’t tell you. I ended it for good.”
“I’m sorry for anything she did to your new girlfriend,” Marie said sadly.
“Daphne is okay, and she’ll be fine, but Wendy needs to keep her distance.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” Marie said. “Wendy’s an adult. Unless she commits a crime…”
“She pulled a gun on my roommate.”
Marie went white.
Warren cleared his throat. “When?”
“A couple nights ago. Outside a convenience store in Denver.”
“Did he file charges?”
“I urged him to, but as far as I know he hasn’t.”
“How on earth does Wendy even know how to handle a gun?” Marie asked.
So much they didn’t know. I said nothing.
“She’s still an adult,” Warren said. “If your friend doesn’t file charges, there’s nothing we can do.”
I cleared my throat. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve done some research. In Colorado, a person can be detained for up to seventy-two hours if a professional feels she’s a danger to herself or others because of her mental state.”
Marie’s eyes widened. “She can?”
“Yeah. We can easily find a licensed professional to testify, if my friend will tell his story. After a court hearing, the detention can be lengthened.”
“No,” Marie said. “Wendy doesn’t need that kind of help.”
“Marie,” Warren said softly, “she pulled a gun on another person.”
I nodded. “Murph may still press charges. I want him to. But Wendy needs professional help