Chapter Seven Raine
Chapter Seven
Raine
A strong shake rattled through my body.
“Raine, it’s Judson. Wake up.”
My eyes opened to his stoic face.
“You were dreaming.”
I hadn’t dreamed about Amy in years. I sat up, my neck cramping painfully. Carefully, I rubbed the knotted, still-healing tendons. “How’s Maria?”
“She’s still in a coma,” he said.
“What time is it?”
“Six thirty in the morning.” Less than three hours of sleep. Not great. The wine haze had mostly lifted, but a headache throbbed behind my right eye.
Stubble darkened Judson’s jaw. He handed me a cup of black coffee. “Dr. Webber is examining Maria. She and another doctor are discussing her condition.”
Bruised ribs pinched as I stood. “I should be in that room.”
“Agreed.”
I sipped and grimaced. “Thanks.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re guarding your ribs.”
“A memento from my attack.”
His gaze lingered and then: “You used to take your coffee black.”
“Still do.”
“Still drown mine in sugar. Too many years of crappy cop coffee.”
“It’s a universal truth. Cops can track down the nastiest killers, but not brew decent coffee.”
“About right.”
I dragged fingers through my blond shoulder-length hair. “Lead the way.”
“What was the dream about?”
I frowned. “Old stuff. The house. Too many ghosts.”
“Your parents?”
“Amy.”
Our paths were tightly woven for ten months. “I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Neither have I.”
“What brought her up now?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maria wasn’t a fan of hers. She hated having her in the house at night.”
Maria was the first to sound alarms about Amy. But I ignored them. Maria wasn’t willing to take a night shift, and I needed the help.
“Being back stirs up memories,” he said.
“Devil you know, right?”
“Right.”
I pushed into Maria’s hospital room. Beyond a curtain, she lay motionless in the bed. Gabe turned at the sound of the door.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
Gabe’s bloodshot gaze met mine. It took him a moment to recognize me. Older. Thinner. Longer hair. Then the shock and haze cleared. He gently laid Maria’s hand down and crossed to me, pulling me into a hug.
The scents of generic soap, sweat, and fresh-cut grass clung to his skin.
Pain sharpened his gaze. “She was washing a plate and then she just collapsed.”
“Were there any warning signs?” I asked.
“None. I did CPR, called 9-1-1 and then Mom.”
“Did Molly see anything?”
“No. When the rescue squad arrived, she woke up. I went up to her room and stayed with her until Maria was gone. I hated the idea that Maria was alone, but she’d have wanted me to protect Molly.”
“Of course.” Gabe adored his daughter as much as he loved Maria.
“Did she ingest something to cause this?” Judson asked.
“Just a glass of wine. Dinner. Pasta.”
“Does she have any underlying conditions or take medications?” he asked.
Gabe’s jaw tightened. “The paramedics asked me that. Twice. No to both.”
Judson nodded. “The forensic team is at your house now. They’re searching for any possible toxins.”
“Like poisons?” Gabe said. “She had a heart attack.”
“She’s in her mid-thirties. Fit. No history of medical issues.”
“The Hales have bad hearts,” Gabe countered. “Maria’s father and uncle died of heart attacks.”
My uncle had died in his late forties. My father’s attack had happened while he was behind the wheel. Both were heavy smokers and drank too much. “Our grandfather also died young, but the Hales always assumed heart failure followed the men, not the women.”
“It might be genetics,” Judson said. “But we have to rule out other causes.”
“Do whatever you need to,” Gabe said. “I just want her to be safe.”
Neither Judson nor I spoke. In our professions, we’d both seen young and strong people pass.
The nurse pushed back the curtain and checked the monitor. “I need everyone but one person out of the room. She needs her rest.”
I looked at Gabe. “I’ll leave.”
“Thanks, Raine.” He looked defeated, no longer the vibrant football player who made every high school girl’s head turn. “But I’ll go, too.”
Gabe leaned forward and kissed his wife on the forehead. He muttered, “I love you.”
Her heartbeat monitors quickened.
The three of us left as the nurse recorded gauges and graphs.
Out in the hallway, I studied Gabe more closely. Black stubble, hollowed eyes, and extra weight had aged him.
Gabe sighed. “How did we get here, Raine?”
“I don’t know. Maria and I lost touch last year.”
“She is sorry about that. She wants to make amends.”
“She’s suing me,” I said.
“For what?”
He didn’t know? Hard to believe. “Half the Hale estate.”
“I didn’t know.” He shook his head. “She is under a lot of stress.”
I silenced a rebuttal. This wasn’t the time to argue about money.
“Gabe,” Judson said. “I have to ask you difficult questions.”
Gabe nodded. “Sure, ask whatever.”
“Were you having an affair?” Judson asked.
The question caught me unprepared. And by the looks of it, Gabe as well.
Gabe’s gaze pinned Judson. “What?”
“Maria thought you were having an affair. She thought it was someone from one of your jobs.”
Cops didn’t wait for convenient times to ask difficult questions. Vulnerable moments like this were ideal for catching suspects off guard.
Judson saw Gabe as a suspect.
“That’s insane,” Gabe said. “Why would she think that?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“When did she tell you this?” Gabe asked.
“Dinner last month at your house. You were putting Molly to bed. She asked me if I knew anything about what you were up to.”
Gabe stared at the floor. “I don’t know what she said, but I wasn’t having an affair. With anyone. It’s been tough for us the last year. Financially.”
The accusation was unspoken but clear. He believed I had money that would fix his problems. All he saw was the house and land—not the underlying bills and debt.
“I tried to help her,” I said.
“And then you stopped,” he countered.
“She never told me where the money was going.”
“Why did she have to explain?” Gabe demanded.
“You live rent-free on Hale land. She has a good job. Your expenses don’t make sense.”
Judson watched but said nothing.
Gabe shook his head. “You own five hundred acres of prime land.”
“It’s all in trust. What I sent was from my own pocket.”
“She begged you to break the trust,” he countered.
“Is that why she is suing me?” Bitterness coated the words.
“She isn’t.”
“She is,” I said.
“You’re wrong.”
“Don’t put this on me.” I kept my voice calm, controlled. “She needed a husband who has a job.”
“So, is this a contest to see who let Maria down the most?” Gabe asked.
My father and aunt had argued often about the trust. She wanted Maria included. But he’d refused. Then he’d died. When my aunt died eight years ago, the pressure between the Hale branches only simmered hotter under the surface.
“No one is racing to the bottom,” Judson said. “But I want both of you two to stay out of that room.”
“I’m leaving,” Gabe said. “I have a daughter to protect.”
Judson watched him walk toward the elevators. “I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you going?” I asked Gabe.
“To my mother’s house.”
“Stay away from your house,” Judson said. “I have a forensic team there.”
“This is bullshit.” Gabe’s scowling face vanished as the elevator doors closed.
“You’re treating the cottage as a crime scene?” I asked Judson.
“Until proven otherwise, yes.”
“He wouldn’t poison her,” I said. “No matter how bad it got between them, he wouldn’t hurt her.”
“How do you know that? You said yourself, you haven’t seen her in years. A lot can change.”
He was right. The Gabe and Maria I knew belonged to a different decade. “I’m staying with Maria. I want to be here when she wakes up.”
“Why?”
“To tell her I’m sorry.”
“I’ll let you stay,” Judson said. “But don’t make me regret this.”
“You don’t trust me with her?” A good cop saw everyone as a suspect. But me? That stung.
“No, not fully. Like I said, don’t make me sorry.”