Chapter Eleven Raine
Chapter Eleven
Raine
I ended the call with Edith and leaned forward, elbows on my knees. Shadows clustered around the oaks. A thin crescent moon dangled near winking stars. I’d forgotten how vivid the night sky could be.
Grabbing my purse, I got back in my car.
The motel was twenty minutes east. Service trucks and older cars crowded the lot.
Thick curtains smothered most of the large windows, but a few leaked the glow of lamps or TVs.
No sign of Gabe’s truck in the front lot. I drove around back. I passed a rusted SUV, then spotted it—a magnetic sign reading Durant Landscaping arching over a silhouetted oak tree. It was parked in front of Room #19. The curtains weren’t fully closed. The lights were on.
I parked and walked to the window. Gabe lay on his bed, one hand tucked behind his head, the other gripping a TV remote.
Judson would trace Gabe’s half-assed hideout soon. I pounded my fist on the door.
Gabe jerked upright, stiffened as if stillness and silence would hide him.
“I know you’re in there, Gabe. I can see you.” I didn’t identify myself. Let him figure it out. “Open the damn door!”
The door snapped open. Gabe’s hair stood in spiky strands. His tee stretched over his rounded belly and wide, muscled shoulders. Deeply tanned skin had gone sallow under the room’s gray light. The once-bad-boy vibe looked sad and careworn.
“What are you doing here?” He glanced left and then right. “How did you find me?”
“Not hard, pal. Small town. And we’ve got history.”
“I needed a break. I freaked out after I saw Maria.”
“So you came here? Are you wondering how your wife is doing?” Despair and anger soured my mouth.
Fingers threaded through his thick hair. “I’ve been afraid to ask. I can’t face it if she’s dead.”
“How did her crisis become about you?”
“She is my wife! Of course I’m affected.”
“She’s in critical condition. Not you.”
Relief flickered. “She’s alive?”
“Still in a coma. She needs her husband. And the cops have questions for you.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Your vanishing act says otherwise. A forensic tech is at your house. They’re swabbing and searching for dangerous chemicals.”
Eyebrows raised. “Like drugs?”
Fatigue stoked kindled frustrations. “Like poison.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Get your stuff, Gabe. We’re going to the hospital.”
“Okay.” He grabbed his wallet and slipped on his shoes. He closed the door behind him. “I’ll follow you.”
“You’ll ride with me.”
“I can’t leave my truck.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not going anywhere.” I walked to my SUV. “Let’s go.”
We got in, and I started the engine. I put the car in reverse.
Headlights flared behind me. A cop car blocked my spot. Judson.
I put the car back in park, lowered my window, and placed my hands on the steering wheel.
He strode up, flashlight sweeping from me to Gabe in the passenger seat, hand on his weapon. “Out for an evening drive?”
“We’re headed to the hospital.” I slipped into public defender mode.
“How did you find him? Did he call you?”
“This was his spot in high school,” I lied.
Judson’s face was a mask. I remembered the look. It signaled he didn’t dare loosen his grip on his temper.
He angled the flashlight on Gabe. “Gabe, I’ve been looking for you.”
“I was coming back even before Raine tracked me down.”
“Why are you hiding?” Judson asked.
Gabe stared ahead. “I needed time to process.”
“What’s that mean?” Judson asked.
He shook his head, chasing off a memory. “Maria dropped unconscious in front of me. I thought she was dead. I was freaked out.”
“She’s not dead,” Judson said. “She needs you. And I got questions.”
“Raine and I are headed to the hospital.”
Judson shook his head. “You smell like booze.”
“I’m fine.”
“Breathalyzer time.”
“I didn’t drive drunk.”
“I’m still testing you.”
“Are you arresting me?” Gabe’s face paled.
“We can play it that way.”
A county deputy pulled up behind Judson’s car.
“He should see his wife,” I said.
Judson’s gaze hardened. No nostalgia. No softness in the dark depths. “He had his chance. So now he’s going to wait a little.”
“Judson, you know Gabe.”
“Right now, he’s drunk in public. And I suggest you don’t push. You’re skating close to aiding and abetting.” Judson walked to Gabe’s side. He tapped on the glass. “Get out.”
Gabe looked at me. “I didn’t do anything.”
Until Pete Miller, I thought I was savvy enough to spot liars. Shifting glances, changes in voice tone, sweat on a brow. I wasn’t as clever as I’d thought, and I clearly didn’t sniff out lies so well.
And this looked bad for Gabe. “Go with Judson,” I said. “I’ll follow.”
Judson opened the passenger-side car door. “Get out.”
Gabe squared to Judson—arm cocked.
Judson was faster, twisting him against the car. “Do you really want to do that?”
“No.” The word choked out.
“Gabe, go with him,” I said. “Don’t make this worse.”
Gabe struggled, shouting. The deputy rushed in. They cuffed him and loaded him in the cruiser.
“Let me go!” Gabe shouted.
Judson slammed the cruiser’s back door. He spoke to the deputy and crossed to me.
I angled my face up toward his. “I want to talk to him first.”
His jaw pulsed. “You should’ve called me the instant you spotted his vehicle. You’re out of your jurisdiction, Counselor.”
“I’m his friend.”
“Gabe’s not the kid from high school. He’s been arrested twice for being drunk in public in the past year. Drowning in debt. He’s circling the drain.”
“What’s this got to do with Maria?”
“She dies. You take control of the estate next week on your thirty-fifth birthday. His minor daughter is your heir. You die someday soon. He controls her and the money.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He pressed another theory. “You let the Durants live rent-free for all these years.”
“Times are tight for them. Molly needed a steady home. It costs me nothing to let them stay.”
“Now that you’re back, real estate agents are sniffing around. They’re ready to break up the land. Sell it to the highest bidder. Your dying would be convenient.”
“I’ve had no formal meetings.”
“Some have reached out to you, right?”
“How do you know?”
“Small-town living. Word gets around.”
“I haven’t said I’m selling.”
“Gabe doesn’t know that.”
“You’re overthinking. Gabe’s not a 3D chess player.”
“He might not be good at it. Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.”
“Do you have any physical evidence against Gabe?”
“Not yet.”
“So, no reason to hold Gabe in jail.”
“He resisted arrest. He’s drunk. I’ll hold him until he sobers up.”
My shoulders leveled. “He’ll be out by morning.”
Judson didn’t flinch. “Are you representing him?”
I dodged the answer with “The man has done nothing wrong.”
“We’ll see.”
Gabe had always made difficult situations impossible. I’d help him for Maria’s and Molly’s sakes. “I’m going to the station.”
“Suit yourself. Be ready for a long night.”