Chapter Twenty-Seven Raine
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Raine
The rising sun woke me—rare. I was an early riser, usually up by five, gym bag packed, heading out the door to a boot camp class.
I had no daily agenda beyond visiting Maria at the hospital and convincing Edith that I should see Molly. The unexpected compulsion fit the Hale motto: “Blood is blood.”
I scooped up my phone. No work emails. Medical leave was driving a wedge between my old life and me. Grief pressed in, sharp annoyance.
I yanked on sweats and a tee and hurried downstairs. Coffee on. Newsfeed scrolling. Rituals from Alexandria clung, but the real world felt more distant, slipping away.
The front doorbell rang. I glanced toward the door, but the sidelight revealed no one. Judson’s car, though, sat parked behind mine.
I smoothed my hair into a ponytail as I opened the door. “This is early.”
He looked faintly amused. “You used to rise with the sun.”
“Still do. Just moving a little slower today.”
Freshly shaved, leather jacket with the state police crest, crisp khakis. Boots. That same clean soap scent.
Judson’s brow raised. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Just put a pot of coffee on.”
His eyes roamed the entryway as he stepped in. “Place still looks good.”
I almost laughed. Two days ago, the house’s flaws had been glaring. Chipped black-and-white floor tiles, gray walls dulled to a muddy iron, and broken banister spindles. Now, they leaned toward charm. Like wrinkles, like silver hair. Imperfections telling their own story.
“Any word from the contractor?” Judson asked.
“Brad is likely still adding up numbers that are too big for his calculator.”
“Brad’s solid. And he knows the property. Didn’t he work here one summer?”
That was the year I was “away,” as my mother said. The year of shame, healing, acceptance. “He took care of the grounds. What’s his story these days?”
Judson smiled. “Far as I know he’s kept his nose clean and works hard.”
“Clean?”
“A substance abuse problem. Been sober ten years.”
“Good to know.” Energy radiated from Judson’s frame and wrapped around me. I’d once felt safe in his arms. “You didn’t come here to talk about my renovation issues.”
“No.”
“Maria?” I headed to the kitchen. “Any updates?”
“Holding her own.” Heavy footsteps followed. “How did she seem when you saw her last night?”
“You know about my visit?”
“The staff keeps me posted.”
I grabbed a large mug in the cabinet. “Who else has been by her room?”
“Sadly, Raine, this is not a two-way conversation. I ask. You answer.”
Cops. Always on guard around attorneys—even underemployed ones. I filled the cup with coffee and handed it to him. “This visit is official, not social?”
“Correct.” Calloused fingers brushed mine as he took the cup.
“Maria and I didn’t talk about much. Ken was there.”
“Ken? I’d heard he was back in town.” No doubt he’d slipped past the nurses. “What did he want?”
“A way to worm under my skin.”
“Again, why?”
“That you’ll have to ask him. I’m not privy to his agenda.”
“How did Maria seem?”
“She was . . . friendly. I guess bygones, et cetera. Then I left. Ken and I grabbed a drink at the bar across the street. And I quickly remembered why we’re getting divorced.” I cradled my cup.
“Who do you think poisoned Maria?”
“I still can’t wrap my head around the idea she was poisoned. Are you sure this wasn’t an accident?”
“Very unlikely. The high levels in her bloodstream didn’t happen by chance.”
“Why poison Maria? She doesn’t have any money, and she’s not in line to inherit anything from the Hale estate.”
He sipped his coffee. “Maybe it had nothing to do with money. Gabe had money problems, but he admitted he’d flirted with Amy, and I suspect it was more than that.”
“I was just thinking about Amy.”
“Why?”
“I found a picture. Wait. I’ll get it.” I hurried upstairs, grabbed the yearbook, and returned. I opened to Amy’s page, where I’d tucked the Polaroid.
Judson studied the picture but did not touch it. “Who’s the guy with her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Detective Hutchinson interviewed Amy in your mother’s case.”
“Why? Mom had dementia. Tragic, but no one did anything wrong.”
“Your mother was fifty-five and didn’t have major health conditions beyond the stroke.”
“You sound like you think someone killed my mother.”
“Your mother’s case remained on Hutchinson’s radar for a few years.”
“The medical examiner conducted an autopsy,” I said. “He listed Mom’s death as natural.”
“I doubt he looked that hard. No one wants to kick the Hale hornet’s nest. Can I keep this?”
“What are you going to do with the photo?”
“A long shot. But you never know.” Silence settled between us before: “I’m tracking Amy down today. I’d like to talk to her.”
“About possibly killing my mother? Why would she do that?”
“She was obsessed with you. Maybe she thought she was doing you a favor.”
“And Maria?”
“Amy was sleeping with Gabe.”
I shook my head. “When Mom died, Amy lost her job and home when I closed the house. Hardly a ‘favor’ from a pal. And Gabe is an ex-con with no money.”
“The heart wants what the heart wants.”
“Right.”
“Did you ever see Amy with Gabe in high school?”
“They crossed paths when she worked here. He lived on the property.”
“Did she mention him?”
“Not him. But she talked about the guys at school who made passes at her.”
“Which ones?”
“She never said. And I didn’t care enough to ask.”
“Fast-forward seventeen years and she’s back in Gabe’s orbit.”
“Maybe. I don’t follow Maria and Gabe’s marriage.”
“Do you think Gabe might have poisoned Maria?” he asked.
“No. He needs her.”
“Maybe he got tired of needing her.”
“I don’t see it,” I said.
“Are you speaking as family, friend, or attorney?”
“Why are you asking these questions?” I asked.
“Gabe’s been arrested.”
I didn’t like it, but I saw the logic. Husband. Affair. Money. “That’s why you’re here?”
“Giving you a heads-up.”
“Do you have physical proof, or are we dealing with circumstantial evidence?”
His eyes sharpened. “Until he retains you, I’m not obligated to share case details.”
“What if he refuses my help?”
“That’s on him. Like I said, he hasn’t always made the best choices.”
“Keep me posted after you talk to Amy?”
He shook his head. “I don’t discuss active investigations with defense attorneys. If I file attempted murder charges, then we’ll talk.”