Chapter Thirty-Six Raine
Chapter Thirty-Six
Raine
The bail bondsman’s office sat on a side street off North Barracks Road. The squat brick building had BPS Bonding painted on the glass front door.
The lot was cracked pavement, dotted with a few potholes and six cars. A couple of drivers lingered inside their vehicles, waiting for someone to walk out with a bond receipt or refund check.
Inside, three people sat slumped in plastic chairs. Two women. A man. All looked drained and worn thin.
The lobby was painted gray, furnished with a metal coffee table stacked with tattered sports magazines, a desk, and a large sign directing newcomers to register on a clipboard. Hardly high tech, but effective. I jotted my name.
Thirty minutes dragged before the door opened and a man in his mid-fifties appeared. Thick, gray hair. Starched white shirt. A potbelly pressing against dark slacks.
“Ms. Hale?” he asked.
I extended my hand. “Mr. Danvers.”
“That’s right. Come on back.”
He led me into a smaller room furnished with a table and a couple of chairs. “I understand the status of Mr. Durant’s case has changed.”
“Yes. His wife died last night.”
“Very sorry to hear that.” He set several papers on the table. “Agent Blackwood called. He’s filed murder one charges.”
“That was fast.”
“Cases like this one are hard to ignore.”
“How much more?”
He slid the number to me. His fee, 10 percent of the total bail, had doubled overnight. “Good news is the judge will still grant bail.”
“Bad news?”
“He’s doubled the bail.”
I’d already planned to sell a portion of Hale land to cover renovations. Now I’d sell more. I couldn’t get a real read on Gabe or judge Maria’s assessment of her husband since he’d been in prison.
The plastic chair groaned as I leaned forward.
I read the new agreement. Panic rumbled as I stared at the dollar amount.
With a ballpoint pen, I signed. Blue ink.
My father always thought black ink was more dignified.
Frankly, I’d have preferred an electronic document exchange, but Danvers wanted eyes on me.
My capital R wobbled as the pen tip caught on the page. The next letters were small and hard to read. And the H was weak. Considering I’d spent most of the night with ghosts circling around my room, I was doing well enough.
“Thank you, Miss Hale. I’ll take care of the rest,” the bondsman said.
“Thank you.”
Would I regret this?
Feed Gabe to the wolves.
At an office supply store, I printed my petition for Molly’s custody.
In the appeal, I stated that the child’s mother was deceased and the father was facing murder charges, and both had agreed that I’d take the child in the event of their deaths.
I noted Gabe would sign official custody papers, mentioned my family’s solid community connections, and emphasized that Molly was better off with me than her aged grandmother.
I requested a hearing as soon as the court calendar allowed.
Save my daughter.
I printed off three copies and drove to the courthouse and the clerk of the court’s office. Next, it was back to the jail. I checked in with the deputy and was instructed to sit and wait.
Out of habit, I reached for my phone. Still no work emails. No follow-ups or questions to handle. More “Happy birthdays.” No more texts from Maria.
I scrolled so fast I almost missed the email from my boss.
Dear Ms. Hale,
As promised, I’m informing you that Pete Miller, the public defender client who attacked you, has been released from prison on bond.
Best,
Mike
Ken had told me Pete was free. But the email made the threat more real.
Would Pete drive to Hale House? Track me down? Did he even remember me? They’d called his attack a crime of opportunity. But his shadowed eyes had radiated obsession. He could travel here in hours and ask anyone how to find Hale House.
I deleted the message.
The courthouse door opened, and Judson walked in. His steady footsteps echoed through marble hallways, an unhurried pace like a train bearing down the tracks. Move or get crushed.
I stood. “Gabe should be out soon.”
He nodded. “And Molly?”
“I filed papers. I’ll pick her up midday. Gabe will sign custody papers as soon as we talk.”
Steady brown eyes showed no hint of surprise. “Okay.”
“Keep your distance from me. We’re on the opposite side of this case now. And my life is getting messy.”
“We both want the truth,” he said.
An empty smile teased my lips. “There are so many shades of the truth.”
“No. Not really.”
I disagreed. I’d operated in the gray zone for a long time. I’d won cases by arguing what was true versus really true. Reality could be blurred. Emotions tainted a witness’s memories. DNA wasn’t always complete, and searches and seizures could be challenged.
The trick was to find the one that worked for my client. I’d pushed the edge on several cases. Offenders, many of whom probably should have done time, didn’t. Growing up, my lying to parents and teachers had trained me too well.
Double doors opened, and Gabe stepped out. His hair was disheveled. He carried a plastic bag, wore yesterday’s clothes, and was missing his shoelaces.
His steady gaze bounced between Judson and me. Normally, he’d have been relaxed and smiling. Now he looked wary.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
His eyes were wild, scared. “I don’t want to go back in there.”
I couldn’t make that promise. I’d lost cases and watched deputies march clients off to jail.
Five-year sentence. Ten years. Life. That last walk from the courthouse to jail marked a sharp line between past and present.
Feed Gabe to the wolves . . .
“Come on, Gabe. Let’s get you home. We have a lot to talk about.” We stepped past Judson. “Thanks for stopping by.”
In my car, the sour scents of the jail drifted off Gabe. His head dropped back against the headrest. “It doesn’t look good, does it?”
“No.” Maria had been poisoned. The toxin had been delivered via her wineglass. Gabe’s fingerprints were on the glass. And I knew Judson hadn’t shared all his facts.
“Why did it take so long?” he asked.
I shoved out a breath. “Maria died last night.”
“What?” He blinked. Froze.
“Her heart gave out. The doctors couldn’t save her.”
Head shaking, he stared out the front window. “That’s not right. I just talked to her. She was getting better.”
“We’re all shocked.”
Silence stretched. “I don’t believe it.”
“I’m sorry.”
His chest rose in a ragged breath.
“We need to talk about your marriage.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Now. You’re now charged with first-degree murder.”
“I didn’t kill my wife.”
“We need to prove it.”
His head dropped back against the headrest. “I thought our marriage was good,” Gabe said. “Not perfect. But good.”
“You’ve admitted to an affair.”
“We’d have figured it out. I never would’ve left her.”
“The news is getting out. People are filling in the gaps, and I can promise you, you aren’t the hero of these stories.”
“Where’s Molly?”
“At preschool.”
“Mom sent her?”
“She did.”
He shook his head. “She shouldn’t be at school.”
“I’ll pick her up soon.”
“I’m hungry,” he muttered.
“Okay.”
His body was tense, rigid, as he settled into a sullen silence. I drove down Route 250 away from the city. We stopped at a roadside diner open twenty-four hours a day. This time of day, we’d slid in between breakfast and lunch.
Inside, we sat in a back booth far away from the door. I grabbed menus from the holder. The waitress glanced at us. The hitch in her gaze as she took our orders told me she’d recognized us.
When our burgers arrived, I let Gabe eat and sip from his soda. I nibbled on a few fries. When he was nearly finished, I sat back. “Why would you want to kill Maria?”
He swiped mustard from his lips with a paper napkin. “I told you, I didn’t.” His eyes watered. “My wife is dead. I should be mourning, not getting hit with questions like this.”
“Get used to hard questions.”
He brushed away a tear. “Do I look like a killer?”
Feed Gabe to the wolves.
“I’ve seen killers mourn their victims.”
“Damn, Raine. When did you become so hard?”
“Life in the big city. Why did you kill your wife?”
He tossed his balled-up napkin on the plate. “I’m not playing this game. You and Judson both want to put this on me.”
“What did Judson say to you?”
“He said he found cyanide in my truck’s toolbox. It’s a trick. He’s lying.”
“That should have been the first comment out of your mouth when I picked you up. Not telling me reads like you’re hiding something.”
“It’s not true.”
I leaned forward, threaded fingers resting on the table.
“You’re buried deep in debt. You’re having an affair.
Maria might have been having one, too. She was suing me for a big chunk of money.
She demanded a divorce. I bet she said, ‘It’ll be a cold day in hell before you see Molly again.
’ And you might have poison in your toolbox. ”
He dropped his voice. “Maria and I were working it out. I told her I broke it off with Amy.”
“Amy will confirm that?”
“Of course.”
“Unless she’s covering. Maybe you and Amy planned all this. She’ll pretend you dumped her. You clear the charges. And when it all dies down, you, Molly, and she ride off into the sunset.”
“I have no money. You’ve said so yourself.”
“Molly is my heir. And as her father, you would control the estate.”
“If you’re dead. You’re very much alive.”
“So far.”
He grimaced. “Don’t be morbid.”
“I’m thinking twice about everything I ingest now.” That wasn’t true. But maybe it should’ve been.
“Do you really believe this?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what Judson can prove. What the jury believes. It won’t be hard to make this case. Especially when the prosecutor reminds everyone that you’re an ex-con.”
“I didn’t do this. I didn’t.”
He sounded sincere. And if I were just his friend now, I’d be comforting him. This is bullshit. You’d never hurt your wife. But . . . I wasn’t his friend. I was his attorney. For now.
Feed Gabe to the wolves.
“What is Judson saying to you?” Gabe asked.
“Not much. His job is to solve this case.”
He pointed his finger at me. “He’s like you. Doesn’t want to be on the prosecution’s side, but he is.”
“You can hire another lawyer. I can go back to being your friend.”
The waitress returned with our check. I tossed two twenty-dollar bills on the table and rose. Gabe stood. “We need to get going. There are a lot of details to handle.”
Several people in the diner were staring at him. He’d been recognized, and if I knew anything about this small town, news traveled fast.
Outside, Gabe moved to my car without saying much. When the doors were closed, he looked at me. “You’re my attorney. If there’s any chance of someone seeing beyond the facts, it’ll be you.”
I drove Gabe to Edith’s house. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, and I was glad. Later we’d fight over Molly, but if I could avoid a skirmish now, I would.
“I’ll pick Molly up from school, and we’ll arrange a visit for you two. Don’t leave the house,” I said.
He pulled up his pant leg to reveal a monitor. “I’m not getting far with this.”
“Stay close.”
“I want to see my daughter.”
“I’ll let you know once I’ve visited with her.”
“Are you telling her about Maria?”
“We should do that together.”
He dropped his head. “Okay.”
“I won’t leave you two alone going forward.”
“I’m her father.”
“And you’re the guy charged with her mother’s death. Play this smart, Gabe.”
He was silent, his jaw tightening.
“Do you hear me? You’re going to stay in this house, and you won’t do anything until we talk again.”
“You’re talking to me like I’m a child.”
How many times had I parented grown men and women who’d made bad decisions that had landed them in my office? “Promise me.”
“Sure.”