Chapter Forty-Seven Raine
Chapter Forty-Seven
Raine
Molly woke several times during the night. She lurched up. Cried out.
I rubbed her head, whispered what encouragement I could, but nothing settled her. Finally, the nurse slipped into the room at two a.m. and gave the child a mild sedative. Slowly, she fell asleep, arms wrapped around the dragon.
Molly needed her own things. Anything that would remind her of Mommy and Daddy. No words were a substitute. Adrift, she needed an anchor.
Assured she was asleep, I left the room. At the nurses’ station, they told me Molly would sleep hard for hours. I ordered an Uber and returned to Hale House.
The house was dark, bathed in shadows. What was it about the house? So much death. Loss.
I got into my car and paused. An AirTag. I got out, searched the floorboards, the glove box, and the trunk. Nothing. It had to be here somewhere.
I’d search again when I had more time. I drove to Maria and Gabe’s house. The brick one-level ranch had been their home for years. Fallen leaves lay thick on uncut grass. A planter gripped thinning geraniums.
The crime scene tape draped across the front door had been broken. Someone had breached the tape, been in the house. I took this as an invitation. Using my key, I entered, flipping on the lights.
Inside, the air was heavy.
I stood in the small, neat living room. An eerie weight lingered in the house, as if Maria and Gabe stood close by, watching.
Once, I’d heard that sudden deaths shocked and disoriented spirits. Unable to move on, they remained suspended between the living and the dead. Forced to linger, they struggled to find answers.
If that was the case, then I was surrounded by ghosts and demons. Dad, Mom, Maria, Gabe, and now Amy circled around me at this moment.
Shadows stretched across the tile as I moved into the kitchen. Yellow crime scene tents marked bits of evidence around the room. One, two, three.
A total of ten spots were important enough to be marked by a forensic technician. Discarded white medical tape and gauzes used by the paramedics lay on the white tile floor.
Blood on the counter’s edge marked where Maria’s head had hit when she fell. Splashes dotted the white cabinets.
Unwashed dishes and pots filled the sink. The pasta Maria had cooked was scattered on the floor with the shards of a broken bowl.
I imagined Maria standing at the sink. She was washing dishes when she realized something was wrong. The glass tipped over. She staggered. And then she collapsed, hit her head on the counter, and fell to the floor.
I flexed my fingers at my side.
When Maria had first called me and told me about their financial troubles, it was months after Molly’s birth. I’d suggested this house. Once the caretaker’s cottage, it was small but well kept. I’d called it a temporary stop.
She’d refused at first. But I’d pressed.
When she’d said yes, tension mingled with her gratitude.
She’d always felt like the outsider in the Hale family.
When her parents had been alive, it wasn’t noticeable.
My father hadn’t helped his sister and her family.
Then my aunt and uncle died. The entire estate went to me.
Maria’s mother died eight years ago. I’d returned for the funeral. And stood in the Hale graveyard as she was laid to rest in the family cemetery. “At least I have a grave waiting for me,” Maria had quipped.
Drawing in a breath, I moved toward Molly’s room.
Molly’s pink toddler bed was covered with a yellow comforter covered in stars and moon slivers. The impression of her small body remained in the rumpled fabric, and the impression of her head dented the pillow.
I grabbed a trash bag from the kitchen and then, back in her room, collected the comforter and pillow.
I shoved it all in the bag, along with all the stuffed animals I could find lying about.
In her dresser drawer I gathered pajamas, socks, pants, and shirts.
I picked a well-worn pair of sneakers, knowing comfort eased tensions.
As I tied up the bag, the back of my neck tingled. I turned slowly, expecting to see someone in the doorway. A cop. Edith. Maria’s ghost.
Nothing but still shadows on the doorjamb.
The heating system kicked on, and the sudden sound cut through the thick silence. Energy shot through my limbs.
The sense of prying eyes grew stronger, and I was now anxious to leave.
The trash bag was unwieldy as I moved through the living room; I brushed by a side table and knocked over a lamp. It crashed to the floor, startling me. I righted the lamp and hurried toward the front door. I switched off the light and stepped into the darkness.
I tossed the bag in the back seat and slid behind the wheel. Maria’s minivan remained parked. The car seat was in the back.
Out of my car, I tried the van’s door. Unlocked.
I removed the seat, dusted off cracker crumbs, and set it in my back seat. Reattaching the seat was the challenge. I hooked the belt, but the seat remained loose. I attempted to rethread it, but I couldn’t get it to lock. I left it unhooked, to be fixed later.
I looked back at the house. The kitchen light blazed in the window.
Instead of returning, I let it burn. I’d be back soon enough to clean the house out. And for now, it would serve as a marker for Molly.
I followed the driveway out to the main road and took a right. A half mile down the road, another right took me between the Hale House pillars.
I hauled the bag containing pieces of Molly’s life upstairs and into the spare room beside mine.
The nightstands and the four-poster bed were made of walnut. Handcrafted and expensive, the furniture looked too old for a little girl. The entire house was trapped in another era, and I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. Hale House never pretended to be what it wasn’t.
Stripped sheets in hand, I climbed down the creaky basement stairs and shoved them in the washer. Upstairs, I stowed the comforter in a closet, ran a vacuum cleaner, and wiped down the surfaces. The room filled with fresh scents.
Sheets in the dryer, I jumped in the shower, knowing I had less than five minutes of heat.
Dressed in fresh jeans and a pullover sweater, I made a quick breakfast and, after eating a bagel, remade the bed. I wasn’t sure if the room was more welcoming or not.
I Ubered back to the hospital. Judson would eventually figure out the scene had been compromised, but that was another day’s problem.
When I arrived, Molly was starting to rouse. I was at her side when her eyes opened. She looked surprised. A flickering smile vanished as she realized I brought a lot of sadness.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
The attendant entered the room carrying a breakfast tray. She set it in front of Molly. Cereal, bagel, lime-green Jell-O, a fruit cup.
“Looks pretty good,” I said.
She stared at the food. “I don’t like green.”
“What color do you like?” I was grateful she was talking to me.
“Red.”
“If I got you red Jell-O, would you eat it?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Let’s see what I can do.” I moved to the doorway, staying in Molly’s line of sight while flagging the attendant. After explaining what I needed, the attendant produced a red Jell-O. “Thank you.”
I waved the cup, smiling as I approached the child. “Ready to give it a try?” When she nodded, I peeled back the top and stuck the spoon inside.
She took a bite. “Where do we go now?”
“We’re going to Hale House. That’s where I live.”
“I want to go home.”
“We’ll go by your house soon. I promise. But for now, it needs a good cleaning.”
“That’s what Mommy always said. She said she could never clean enough to make it look new.”
“It’s a pretty old house.”
“I liked it.” She scooped out a globby spoonful of Jell-O.
“What did you like about it?”
“It’s always making funny noises. And the woods out back are filled with magical creatures.”
“Magical? Who told you that?”
“Amy. She said the woods have fairies and baby dragons.”
“Did you see Amy a lot?”
A frown furrowed her brow as if she realized this was too big a secret to discuss. “I don’t know.”
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “Did you ever see any fairies?”
“No.”
“Your mommy saw them when she was little.”
“Does she live with the fairies now?”
“Kind of, yes.”
She dug her spoon into the red Jell-O. “Why would she leave me?”
“She didn’t mean to.” My smile was quick, brittle. “Eat what you can. Then we’ll get you changed. It’s supposed to be a pretty day.”
Molly picked at her food, swallowing only a few bites before pushing it away.
“Want me to help you change?”
“I can do it myself.”
I handed her jeans, a purple top, socks, underwear, and well-worn sneakers that looked like a favorite. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”
“Okay.”
When Molly emerged minutes later, she was dressed. Her shirt wasn’t tucked, and her laces weren’t tied, but her shoes were on the right feet. Her dark hair was a halo of static and knots.
I knelt to tie her laces. “Do you know how to tie your shoes?”
“No.”
“We’ll work on it.” I knotted the laces and then dug a small brush from my purse. I dampened the bristles and then carefully brushed the tangles flat. I pulled the rubber band from my hair and secured hers into a ponytail. Not perfect, but acceptable.
“Ready to go to Hale House?” I asked.
“No.”
Neither was I. What the hell was I supposed to do with a five-year-old? I collected the plastic bag with her old clothes and the purple dinosaur. “Either way, we must get going. They’re going to kick us out of here.”
“Why?”
“Hospitals are for sick people.”
“Were Mommy and Daddy in a hospital?”
“Mommy was. Daddy wasn’t.”
“If Daddy was sick, he should’ve been here.”
My throat tightened. How much truth was safe? “He died before he came to the hospital.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure. But when I know, I’ll tell you. Deal?”
She regarded me with a long, lonely stare. “Okay.”
An administrator arrived with paperwork. I signed, handed over Maria’s insurance card, and prayed it would buy us a little more time. I’d figure out our long-term insurance soon.
I helped Molly slip on her jacket as a nurse appeared with a wheelchair. Molly looked at me, frowning.
I shrugged. “Might be fun.”
“Okay.”
She slid into the chair. As the nurse walked us toward the main lobby, Judson strode toward us.
His dark gaze slid over me, taking in my change of clothes and clean hair. He crouched in front of Molly’s wheelchair. “How do you like riding in this?”
“It’s okay.”
“Ready to ride in my police car?”
“Do you have a siren?”
“I do.”
“Okay.”
He shot me another glance. He was closer now and could see the circles under my eyes. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Outside, his car waited in a spot marked for police. He opened the back door. “Borrowed the booster from a friend.”
He helped Molly out of the wheelchair. “It doesn’t look like mine.”
“I’ll get yours later,” I said.
It was explanation enough.
Judson lifted Molly into the seat and hooked the belt around her. “How’s that?”
“Okay.”
The nurse double-checked the booster. “Looks like your aunt and her friend have it all figured out.”
“She’s not my aunt,” Molly said.
“Who is she, then?” the nurse asked.
“I don’t know.”
“First cousin, once removed,” I said.
The nurse blinked. “You and Maria were first cousins?”
“That’s right.” Shoving hair from my eyes, I handed the purple dinosaur to Molly and closed the door.
“We all liked her,” the nurse said.
“I know. Everyone’s been very kind.”
“Do they know any more?” she asked.
“If they do, I haven’t been told. I’m still in the dark.”
Her smile was sad. “Keep us posted about the funeral.”
“I will.”
The funeral for Maria and Gabe had been a distant thought. Truthfully, I had no idea if I was allowed to make those decisions. Gabe might have killed Amy and Maria, but he was still Molly’s father. I wouldn’t leave his body to rot. Not with her watching.
Judson started the engine. Panic knifed through me as I hooked my seat belt. How had it come to this? I caught Molly’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Do you like to listen to music?”
“Sometimes.”
Judson turned on a country music station with an upbeat melody about trucks. Molly stared out the window, silent, as the countryside blurred by.
Twenty minutes later, Hale House loomed through the gates.
Molly sat forward. “I know this place.”
“You do?”
“Amy used to bring me here sometimes.”
“Amy?” Judson asked. “Was she your friend?”
Molly’s expression shifted to regret and hesitation. “Yeah, I guess.”
Amy had brought Molly here. Treading carefully, I asked, “What did you think of it?” I asked.
“It’s big. Lots of closets.”
“Your mom and I used to play hide-and-seek in the attic when we were your age.” The car rumbled down the graveled driveway toward the house.
“One day it’s all going to be mine,” Molly said.
The statement struck me as odd. “Who said that?”
Molly yawned. “She said it was going to be hers and then mine.”
She. “Amy or Mommy?”
“Mommy.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, she was excited. She said when she sold it all, we’d be rich. I’m getting a new pink bike then.”
Judson’s head tilted slightly as he paid attention to the child’s patter. He likely sensed that any questions could shut down the flow of information.
He parked, shut off the engine, and helped Molly out of the car. We followed her up the stairs to the front door.
From my purse, I fished out the key and unlocked the dead bolt. Judson went first, checking the rooms as we wandered into the foyer.
“Are you hungry?” I asked Molly.
“A little.”
“Can I get you a bowl of cereal?”
“Okay.” Molly walked to the back door and stared out over the lawn. “Do the fairies live out there?”
“I think they do,” I said.
“Can I look?”
I opened the back door. “Stay on the patio, okay? I want to be able to see you.”
“Check the flowerpots,” Judson said. “I hear they can hide at the base.”
The child’s face brightened. “Okay.”
She moved to a large planter filled with an evergreen tree.
“Where did she get the change of clothes?” Judson asked.
“I Ubered to her house. I assumed it was clear.”
“Crime scene tape?” He studied me as I stared back in silence. “You shouldn’t have gone there.”
“Molly needed clothes and toys.”
“Stay out of the house, Raine, until I clear it. I’ll reseal the tape.”
I reached for a cereal box and a bowl. “Understood.”
“Molly knows more than she realizes.”
“I see that now.” I grabbed milk and a spoon.
“I’d planned to make changes to the inheritance structure, but I hadn’t said anything to anyone.
Lately, I’d been more worried about Ken’s motives.
” At the glass patio doors, I watched Molly move to another potted plant. This distraction wouldn’t last long.
Judson moved closer, watching Molly at the planters. “Did you know that Maria—or Amy—had their eyes on Hale House?”
“Maria wanted a payout, but not necessarily the house and land.” And Amy liked to bring the child to Hale House.
His gaze locked on mine. “Everything’s up for grabs in an active murder investigation.”
The words echoed, sharp as glass. “That’s what Hutchinson said to me after Mom died.”
His jaw tightened. “Everyone is fair game.”