Chapter Thirteen Raine
Chapter Thirteen
Raine
Hospital staff said Maria remained stable. I left Gabe at his mother’s house, reminded him to stay put. He promised—twice.
My headlights swept the narrow country road, then flashed across the twin brick pillars of Hale House. Expectations and old memories slammed against my shoulders.
“Yep, it’s me. Back for more.”
Gravel popped under the SUV’s wheels as I drove up the long driveway. Country darkness was deep and endless, like the ocean—no streetlamps, no neon storefront signs, and no home lights.
A single light clicked on in the second-floor bedroom. I parked in the circle driveway and searched the windows for movement. Nothing.
The light was coming from my mother’s old bedroom. How?
I hadn’t set foot in the room—too many memories.
Beyond the beam of my headlights, shifting shadows shrouded the house’s peeling paint and broken shutters. Faulty wiring explained the light. The system was twenty years past an upgrade.
I killed the engine.
A short circuit made sense.
But still . . . Mom’s room?
When I climbed out of my car, nightfall closed in, thick and heavy. My flashlight app lit the way up the creaking stairs.
Fumbling with the front door key, I jammed it into the lock. The dead bolt resisted before it turned.
Inside, the bedroom light bled under the door, dripping pale gold down the stairs.
The entry chandelier remained dead as I flipped the switch.
More for Brad Lawson’s list.
Until then, the flashlight app. I crossed to another switch and flipped it, and lights blinked on. My shoulders dipped with relief.
Shutting off the app and shoving the phone in my back pocket, I moved to the kitchen. More lights on. More relief.
At the old gas stove, I filled a copper kettle at a farmhouse sink. On the front burner, I twisted a knob, and a blue flame danced and flickered around the edges of the copper.
At the kitchen window, I stared out over the expanse of tall grass. Beyond the grove of trees circling the family graveyard.
Used to be, the light in Mom’s room was always on. She hated the darkness. Amy learned that lesson quickly the first time she’d shut it off. Mom’s screams, she’d said, could wake the dead.
Amy.
I’d not thought about her in years.
And now she was back in my head.
Amy had been awed by Hale House—the grand entrance foyer, the black-and-white-checkered floor, the glaring oil portraits, the brass sconces. She’d never seen anything like it.
“Wow,” Amy muttered.
This corridor was my portal between the modern world and a past that threatened to trap me. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Never.”
Amy didn’t see shadows or smell sadness. She saw old money, luxury, and stability.
Her careful fingers ran over the bullnose banister as her gaze danced with excitement. And hunger.
She’d staked her claim on the Hale household.
I led her upstairs, where we went past Mom’s locked room and my open door to a small room with views of the back lawns and gardens.
There was a Queen Anne four-poster bed with a canopy, a dresser with ten drawers, a centuries-old rich red carpet, and a crystal vase filled with wildflowers I’d picked.
“This is mine?” she asked.
“Do you like it?”
She smoothed a reverent hand over the chenille bedspread. “Looks like it belongs to a princess.”
Her enthusiasm was charming, harmless, then. And I was grateful for the nighttime help.
Later there would be troubles. But that day, only relief.
Weeks later, Maria cornered me in the kitchen. I’d stumbled in the back door after a night out with Judson.
“What are you doing here?” The buzz of beer still hummed in my system.
“I think she’s stealing.”
“Amy?”
“She wears your clothes to school.”
I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. “There’s nothing in this house I want.”
“I found her in your room,” Maria said.
“Doing what?”
“Looking around.”
I gulped cool liquid. “I still don’t know why you’re here.”
“Gabe and I came to check on Aunt Eloise.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re leaving her alone with Amy.” An accusation hung between us. “I don’t trust her.”
“I do.” Before she could speak, I shifted the conversation. “What’s the deal with you and Gabe? Is this a permanent thing?”
The traces of annoyance softened. “Maybe.”
I loved Judson. But forever . . . that was a long time. “How can you be so sure?”
“When you know, you know,” she said.
“Gabe?” Hovering under the question was a string of his bad choices.
“That’s behind him.”
The teakettle shrilled, jerking me back to the present. I poured hot water over a tea bag nestled in a porcelain cup.
A fist pounded against my front door. Through the glass panes I caught Judson’s profile.
I opened the door. “What’re you doing here?”
He towered over me. Biceps were twice the size from when he played ball. And this close, the boyish imperfections had hardened into masculine features that were hot.
“Checking on you,” he said.
Not sure if I fully believed that. Judson was a cop first. He wanted an update on Gabe. “I dropped him off at his mother’s house. We’ll visit Maria in the morning.”
Shadows cut across his face. “Are you his attorney now?”
“There’s no formal arrangement. Right now, I’m helping a friend.”
“Why does he need a lawyer’s help?”
A smile tugged my lips. “Once the cuffs go on, a smart guy lets the lawyer do the talking.”
“Your husband texted me.” His blank expression was becoming a fixture.
“Soon-to-be ex,” I said. “We’re getting a divorce.”
“He’s been in contact with you about Gabe.”
“Texted me a few hours ago. I don’t know how he found out about Gabe.”
“And what did he want?”
“To help. Not sure what that means. There’s always a second motive with Ken.”
Judson studied me, then nodded toward the entryway. “How’s it holding up?”
“It’s a money pit.” The lightness in my tone belied the looming renovation costs. “I dream of saving it. But reality . . .” I let the words trail.
“I walk the Hale property from time to time. Abandoned acreage tends to attract trouble.”
“No stills or meth labs, I hope.”
“A few illegal dumping spots. Discarded tents and campsites.”
“Squatters on my land. No sign of anyone in or near the house.” Other than the light. “No broken windows.”
“Edith is there enough, but now that Gabe’s in trouble and Maria is in the hospital, she won’t stop by like she used to. Gabe installed hunting cameras a few years ago.”
“Did you see anyone lurking around?”
“No. But your return is bound to catch someone off guard. Keep your doors locked and your attention sharp.”
This place had felt like the end of the world when I was a kid. A million miles from the world. I hated that. Now the world had found us. And I hated that more.
“I’ll stay alert.”
“Do you have home protection?” he asked.
“A handgun,” I said. “Not everyone loves public defenders.” Even if I’d had it in the courthouse when Pete attacked, he’d moved his two hundred pounds of muscle lightning fast. I’d never have drawn the gun fast enough.
“Where is it?”
“My bedroom. Nightstand.”
“Loaded?”
“No. But bullets in the drawer beside it.”
“Keep it close.”
“I will.”
For a moment, our easy familiarity shone under seventeen years of dust. Once he’d stared at me with tenderness. Those times weren’t simpler, but they were a little happier. “Did you find anything at the Durant house?”
A faint smile tugged his lips. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
Attorney of record or not, no good cop shared details so early in an investigation. “Thought I’d try.”
The flash of teeth shattered our fleeting connection. “I’m not discussing the evidence with you now.”
“If I take Gabe on as a client?”
“Then I’ll provide what’s mandated by law. When it comes to this case, we aren’t friends.”
“And outside of this case?”
He studied me. “I have fond memories of you. This place. We were good until we weren’t. That’s worth something.”
“Not the sentimental sort, are you?”
Fingers at his side clenched, relaxed. “I hang on to what works and cut loose what doesn’t.”
That stung. “I’ll see you around, Judson.”
“You can count on it, Raine.”