Chapter Five Raine
Chapter Five
Raine
“Are you at Hale House alone?” Judson asked. “Did Ken come with you?”
“Ken and I are getting a divorce.” Easier to say the words now. No hitches. No embarrassment.
Judson searched my face. Looking for grief or pain? Good luck. I was all out. “When did you move back to town?”
“Last night. Grabbed a few supplies.”
“How is it?”
Mostly drinking wine. Avoiding darkened corners and ghosts. “It’s fine.”
Brown eyes narrowed. But he didn’t press. “Right.”
The odd, awkward silence begged for an explanation. Last he’d heard, Ken and I were happily ever after.
Instead, I called Edith’s number again. Still no answer. “Gabe is at his mother’s house?”
“Supposed to be.” He called the officer on duty and asked the same question. As he listened, his frown deepened. He ended the call. “Gabe just left Edith’s house. The officer is following him here.”
“And Molly?”
“With her grandmother.”
Gabe’s lack of urgency wasn’t just suspicious. It was unacceptable. He should be here. Dealing with doctors. Holding his wife’s hand. Answering Judson’s questions.
Frustration tightened Judson’s jaw. Gabe was testing the bounds of his patience. “I’ll let you know when Gabe arrives.”
“Think Gabe had anything to do with this?” Police often investigated the victim’s spouse or romantic partner.
“It’s no secret Gabe’s business has financial problems. He owes half the town for supplies or wages.”
“So, he poisoned his wife?”
“I don’t know anything for sure.”
But he had theories. “Why poison Maria? She’s not a wealthy woman. She’s a nurse.”
“She’s also a Hale. And the Hale land is worth a fortune.”
“The Hale lands are in a trust. I’m the sole beneficiary.” Maria’s lawsuit contested the ironclad setup, and even in the event of her death, Gabe could uphold the suit on Molly’s behalf.
“If you die—who gets the property?”
The conversation was morbid. But criminal cases didn’t care about indelicate issues. “Once my divorce is final and Ken has no claim on my assets, it would go to Molly.”
“Not Maria?”
“We haven’t spoken in over a year.”
“Why?”
“Money. She wanted another loan.” Hales didn’t typically air family problems. “I’ve made her several large loans. When I asked for an accounting of the monies, she refused. Now she’s suing the estate.”
He scrutinized me, a troubled expression on his face. “How much is the Hale land worth?” he asked.
Located in wine country, close to Charlottesville, Richmond, and the Washington, DC, areas—it was a prime location. “Hundreds of millions of dollars if I sold it all.”
“Do you have plans to do that?”
I grimaced. “Ken’s asked me that several times.”
Judson frowned at the association with Ken. “And?”
“I don’t know. I need to determine what it’ll cost to save the property.”
It was a renovation expert’s dream. Hale House was a developer’s clubhouse waiting to happen.
“How much to fix it?” he asked.
“A fortune. The 1970s add-on kitchen and electrical rewiring cost over a hundred grand. That’s millions in today’s dollars.”
“Hell of a commitment.”
The lawyers were advising I sell. “It is.”
Seventeen years ago, I’d walked away from the rolling green hills soaked with Hale blood and a legacy spanning generations. The Alexandria town house I’d shared with Ken was a study in modern lines, glass windows, ten-foot ceilings. No history. No stories. No roots.
But when my life crumbled, I realized roots and history mattered. So I was back, wondering how much blood and sacrifice I was willing to give to Hale House.
“How much is Maria suing you for?” he asked.
“She wants half. My lawyer thinks she’s angling for a payout, and if I pay her off, she’ll drop the suit. She’s forgotten I made her daughter my heir.”
“Why did you make Molly your beneficiary?”
“She and I are the last Hales.” Blood mattered to my family.
“Over a decade before she’s of age,” he said. “Whoever has custody of the child controls the estate.”
“Yes.”
Ken had talked about having children, but I’d always found a reason to delay. A good thing, in the end. So many generations of Hales on this land, and that revered legacy rested on my shoulders and those of one little girl.
Anger leaked out. “Gabe loves his wife. He’d never take Molly’s mother away.”
“Better to think this way now, so we can clear Gabe as a suspect. I’ve always liked the guy. When I moved back to town, he was great. Showed me around, helped me find a house. Maria and Gabe had me over for dinner. I hate all this.”
“When did you get back?” I asked. “I thought you were stationed in Richmond.”
When Maria and I were still talking, she’d told me Judson had moved to the capital city to work in the Virginia State Police headquarters.
He’d tackled the leadership of a gang task force and spent many months undercover.
That kind of work had a high burnout rate, so it wasn’t a surprise he’d shifted directions, moved back here, and transferred to the Division Six based in Salem.
“A year ago.” He studied me. “Thought you’d never come back.”
“Life changes.”
“I heard something about an assault.”
I resisted the urge to touch my neck, still sensitive to the touch. “Three weeks ago, a client attacked me.”
We’d been in the courthouse interview room when Pete Miller, a mid-thirties electrician with large, muscled arms, launched himself over the table.
In the seconds before the cops pulled him off, he’d left me with cracked ribs, a crushed windpipe, and a bruised cheekbone. “I took it as a sign to refocus.”
Judson waited. When I didn’t elaborate, he asked, “Where’s this former client?”
“Jail. No bail. The prosecutors are now chasing maximum prison time.”
“Where was Ken during all this?”
“Surprisingly kind and helpful.” Ken had tried to tighten the fraying tethers between us. “But now I’m here and ready to move forward.”
“Near death. Divorce. Resurrecting a crumbling house. You make it sound easy.”
Easy? Easy is the hardest kind of work. “Hales can keep up appearances.”
“Good to have you back.” His smile didn’t jibe with his hardening eyes.
“Thanks.”
Logically, I understood that our high school relationship was truly over. But my best days had been spent with him.
“Let me know when Gabe arrives,” I said. “I want to talk to him.”
“So do I.”