Chapter Twelve Raine
Chapter Twelve
Raine
Getting Gabe released happened faster than I’d expected. The Hale name didn’t mean much in the DC area, but in Albemarle County, it still had pull.
I’d called Judge Gray Stokes—my father’s former classmate. I’d interrupted the judge’s evening, and he wasn’t happy. I’d quickly reintroduced myself and laid out Gabe’s situation. Another lawyer wouldn’t have gotten two words out. But he’d listened to me.
Stokes liked Agent Judson Blackwood and trusted his judgment. I argued extenuating circumstances—asked for leniency for Gabe. Judge Stokes reluctantly agreed but reminded me this was a personal favor.
My phone chimed with a text as I sat in my car outside the police station.
My estranged soon-to-be ex-husband, Ken.
Ever since he’d moved out, we’d communicated only through lawyers, until I was attacked.
Battered and bruised, I’d needed help. He’d filled in the gaps. The arrangement was temporary for me.
Ken: Did Gabe get arrested? Did he try to kill Maria?
Ken was a criminal defense attorney for Virginia’s wealthiest clients. His connections spread all over the state. Still, the swiftness of his hearing about Maria’s news surprised me.
Me: Maria collapsed. She’s in critical condition. Gabe is at the station now for questioning.
Ken: Want me to ask around? See what I can find out?
Me: Judson is handling the investigation.
Ken: Judson? He’s state police.
Me: He’s a friend.
Ken: He isn’t on your side. He’ll nail Gabe if he can.
He was right. High school loyalty didn’t stand up to the law. If Judson thought Gabe was guilty, he wouldn’t hesitate to arrest him for attempted murder.
Pride insisted I refuse Ken’s offer.
Ken: Let me help, R.
I drew in a breath. Pride could be expensive.
Me: If you hear of anything . . .
Ken: I’m on it.
Within weeks of marrying Ken, I’d realized I’d made a mistake. He loved his work and was deeply loyal to his firm. If the job required a one-hundred-hour workweek, he did it. I’d accepted the job’s demands. And when our jobs chewed up time, it was easier to pretend I had my happily ever after.
And then last year, late-night cash withdrawals from our joint savings account started piling up. A Google search put the ATM across the street from a strip bar. Then I saw the charges on his credit card for random nights at a local hotel.
I’d laid out all the receipts on the kitchen island. He’d denied, shouted, accused me of disloyalty. I’d seen my share of lying clients and lawyers. And Ken was good. Real good. His story never wavered. Even when I told him to leave, my own doubts circled.
After Pete’s attack, Ken drove me home. Once I was settled on the couch, he offered to move back in. Rattled and sore, I still refused. He’d honored my decision. Even sent several DoorDash meals and flowers.
In our modern city town house, I became very aware of all the glass. One brick through my window . . .
I’d taken medical leave and moved back to Hale House, my Alexandria life indefinitely suspended.
I tipped my head back against the headrest as my breath caught in my chest. Ken had found a crack—an opening. And like any good lawyer, he’d drive a wedge into it.
Forty-five minutes later, Gabe walked out of the police station. No sign of Judson. If not for me, Judson could have held Gabe until he appeared before the magistrate.
Gabe yanked open the passenger door and dropped into the seat, running a trembling hand through his hair.
“What happened in there?” I asked.
Anger tightened Gabe’s expression. He smelled of holding cells and sweaty, unwashed bodies. “Not much.”
I switched on the heat and rolled down the windows. “Judson didn’t question you?”
“You got me out before he could ask much.”
“Are you sober now?”
“Better. A lot of coffee and water.” He looked out the window. “He kept asking me about my relationship with Maria. Potential affairs.”
“What did you say?”
“Maria and I were fine. No different than any other married couple.” He shook his head. “How did it all get messed up?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“One day it’s all good. The next Maria is in an ambulance.”
Life could turn on a dime. But most times there were hints, receipts, unnamed worries. Take the guy who’d strangled me. He had a long rap sheet. He’d been agitated that day. His unwavering gaze captured mine. Tension had stiffened his body and fingers.
“What happened before she collapsed?” I let the car idle. My fatigued brain was drawing on every cell to concentrate.
“We’d had dinner. She wasn’t very hungry, and I could tell she was annoyed. It was about money again. She’s always uptight about money.”
Maria had grown up with the constant drumbeat of unfairness and lack. She’d landed on the poor side of the Hale line. The lawsuit was her way of evening the scales.
I traced the steering wheel with my palm. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“What about the affair Judson mentioned?”
“I wasn’t . . .”
“You’re wasting my time.” I nodded toward his door. “Get out of my car.”
He reached for the door handle and pulled. The door opened. And then he hesitated and closed it. “She thinks I’m having an affair.”
“Did she say that?”
“A few days ago. I talked my way out of it, but she’s been chewing on it.”
“Are you having an affair?”
He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been flirting with Amy.”
“Amy?”
“Amy Stocker.”
Amy had taken the job with Mom and settled into Hale House quickly. She had been in Hale House less than a month when she’d started wearing my makeup and shirts. Instead of calling her out, I’d turned a blind eye. The nights and weekends were covered. That was all that mattered.
“I hope you don’t mind.” She closed Mom’s bedroom door and locked it. “All my clothes are in the wash. I found this in the dryer.”
The striped blouse was a little large on her small frame, but the color suited her pale skin. “It’s okay.”
“I’ll wash it and put it back in your closet.”
“Sure, that’s fine.” I’d been hungry to meet up with Judson. And Amy’s slight trespass didn’t feel like a big deal.
Amy kept borrowing my things. She always washed my clothes and put them back in my closet. But her selections grew bolder and more frequent. And then Mom died, and I forgot about the missing shirts and bracelets.
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
“She remembers you well. She’s a real estate agent. Her office is in one of the buildings I service. I took her out for drinks a few months ago. Chatted her up.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Maria had been bitching again—money. I needed a break.”
There had to be a playbook for guys like Gabe and Ken. A fight earned them a night out with another woman? “Maria’s not stupid, Gabe. There had to be more.”
His head shook. “There wasn’t.”
“I hope for your sake you aren’t lying. If you’ve been messing around, it’ll be used against you.”
“Why are they after me? My wife had a heart attack.”
“The cause is what’s at issue.”
“I love Maria.”
He cared about Maria and Molly. But financial pressures and lust bred bad decisions. “Your disappearing act poured gasoline on the fire.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “I can’t process this.”
I’d seen killers mourn their victims. Was Gabe now horrified at what he’d done?
“No one cares why you ran, hid, or lied. All that matters is that you did.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pill bottle. He downed two. “I’ll do better.”
Judson exited the sheriff’s office. He crossed our line of sight. He didn’t look in our direction, but he’d seen us.
“I want to see Maria,” Gabe said.
“There’s nothing you can do for her now. Get a shower, change into clean clothes, eat, sleep. Spend time with your mother and child. In the morning, I’ll take you to the hospital.”
His head dipped. “What if she doesn’t make it through the night?”
“Hope that she does.”