Chapter Fifty-Nine Raine
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Raine
A knock at the door caught Molly and me at the breakfast table.
She didn’t like eggs and toast, but after some coaxing, she’d accepted a bowl of sugary cereal.
Not ideal, but I could only fight so many battles at once.
I crossed to the front door and, opening it, found Judson standing on my doorstep.
“Good morning,” he said.
Heat rose at the memory of last night. “Is everything all right?”
“I have a few questions.” His voice was low, thick with the unspoken.
Sounded ominous. “Come into the living room. Let me tell Molly where we are.”
“Sure.”
In the kitchen, Molly swirled a spoon in her bowl. Beside her were a yellow legal pad and several pens. I had no art supplies, so when she’d asked to draw, I’d dug the pad from my backpack.
“Molly, I’m in the living room. You can find me there.”
She looked up from her drawing—Hale House, rough lines, and a big square. Two chimneys, front porch, and an oak tree out front. Outside the house, three stick figures—two adults and one child—Molly and her parents. Inside the house, a lone figure with a triangle skirt. Me.
“Who’s here?” she asked.
“Agent Blackwood.” I looked over her shoulder. “That’s a pretty picture.”
Molly covered the drawing with her hand. A frown furrowed her brow. “It’s not finished.”
“Okay.”
“Why’s he here?”
“I don’t know. He has questions.”
Molly tensed. “What kind of questions?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you know.”
The furrows eased. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
Judson stood at the window, staring out at the front lawn. All the times I’d dated him, I’d never invited him to the front room.
His questioning look prompted me to say, “I never invited you into Hale House before because of my mother. Not you. I wasn’t ashamed of you.”
Was he dissecting my tone for a deeper motivation or lie? “I never thought about it.”
Of course he had. He’d mentioned seeing the big house once, and I’d brushed him off. He’d never brought it up again, but I sensed the exclusion nagged.
“I was worried you’d realize how sad this house was.”
“Okay.”
“How’s the investigation going?” I asked.
He turned, gaze steady. “Like all of them. Patching together a puzzle that has missing pieces.”
“What part now?”
“Your mother’s death. We never talked about her.” He let the statement dangle.
“What brought that up?”
“Curiosity.”
“There wasn’t much to say. The last year with her wasn’t great. It was her dementia.”
“What was she like?”
The last seventeen years hadn’t released me from the overwhelming emotions. “Cruel. Sometimes she lashed out physically, but mostly her attacks were verbal.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I didn’t want her or this house to ruin what we had.”
“Amy must have seen it all.”
I’d struggled to keep the secrets within these walls. But Amy had heard my mother’s rants. And there was no telling what Mom had said to her when they were alone. “She did.”
“She never told anyone.”
“I was always grateful for that.”
“How did she handle your mother?”
I wasn’t proud that I’d avoided the house and Mom. “Like a toddler. There was no emotional baggage with her.” A long breath leaked over my clenched jaw. “I never saw signs of abuse. But I think toward the end she overmedicated her.”
“Did she ever leave your mother alone?”
“I’m not sure now.”
“There’s a picture in the yearbook. Football game. Amy was standing behind you and Maria and staring at you two.”
I didn’t remember seeing Amy at a game. “So, who was with Mom?”
“County health workers?”
“Not in the evening.”
“What about Edith? Maybe Maria?”
“No, they agitated Mom.” I hesitated. “But Amy left her alone.”
“Amy was highly influenced by you,” he said.
“I know. But I never worried about it. I even gave her some of my clothes.”
“Did she take anything from you or this house?”
“I noticed things missing. But I was just glad to have some freedom. She could have had it all if it meant I could be free of the house.”
He pulled an image up on his phone. “She wore this often.”
The picture was of a small heart on a gold chain. “When it went missing, I didn’t care. But it mattered to her. Maybe she had it all this time,” I said.
“Or she found it when she returned to the house,” Judson offered.
Scorched wood in the attic as well as the coffee in the cabinets marked someone’s visits. “She was here a lot.”
“I think so. I bet if we search the house, we’ll find traces of her. She had to hole up somewhere.”
I knew Amy had brought Molly here. But lurking in a room or basement room was unsettling. “I’ll search the house.”
“Why did Maria and Edith agitate your mother?” he asked.
The question caught me off guard. “Edith took over. She stopped checking in with Mom on decisions. Edith started treating Mom like an afterthought. Mom sensed it.”
“And Maria?”
“Maria’s mom and mine had a bad falling-out after my dad died. I spent a lot of time with Maria and Eloise, but the sisters-in-law went from being close to not speaking.”
“What did you and Maria quarrel over?”
“She wanted me to sell some land. I told her I couldn’t until I turned thirty-five. She insisted I try to break the trust. I explained the unbreakable structure, but she wouldn’t listen. Kept pressing. When I asked how she’d spent the money I’d just given her, she refused to tell me.”
“And yet she gave you custody of Molly.”
“She set that up years ago. I guess she never got around to changing it.”
His gaze sharpened. “I’d like to exhume your mother’s body.”
The air left me. “I didn’t see that coming,” I said.
“Her death was suspicious.”
“She had dementia.”
“But she was physically healthy. She escaped the house and died in the woods in the creek bed. I think there’s more to the story.”
“Think she was poisoned?”
“Maybe someone thought they were doing you a favor.”
“That’s sick.”
Unfazed, he added, “Amy, Maria, and Gabe believed this land owed them something. You and your mother stood in their way.”
The realization was chilling. I’d never once considered that Mom had been murdered.
“Let me exhume her body. A few tests, and we’ll know if I’m wrong or not.”
None of this made sense. “You think this person waited seventeen years to poison Maria, Gabe, and Amy?”
“I don’t know how it all connects yet.”
“You think I could be involved?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The puzzle pieces lay on the table, partial images that still didn’t coalesce into a larger picture.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Do it. Exhume her body.”
A slight nod, and rippling tension eased. “Okay.”
He wanted to be sure of me. But he had doubts. Ken, Gabe, and Maria could have seeded any number of doubts. This close I could smell him. I met his gaze. His breathing deepened, grew slower.
Molly’s feet hit the floor, and her footsteps thumped toward us.
I stepped back, wondering if the heat warming my cheeks showed.
Judson stood rigid until slowly his breath eased from his chest. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Great.”
Molly eyed Judson as if he were a prime suspect. “What’re you doing?”
I felt as if I’d been caught doing something illicit. “Can you say hi to Agent Blackwood first?” I asked.
Molly pulled in a breath. “Hi.”
Judson grinned. “How’re you, Molly?” The tension rippling through his body had faded.
“Good.”
“Good?” he asked. “What’s that mean?” His question had no emotional charge.
“I’m drawing. Eating cereal.”
“She slept in the Rose Room last night,” I said.
“Why do they call it the Rose Room?” Judson asked.
“Roses on the walls,” Molly said.
“Did you count them?” he asked.
A slight smile nudged the corners of her lips. “I tried. There are too many.”
“Raine, have you counted them?” he asked.
“A few times,” I said. I’d moved into that room when my mother’s health declined. Later, I’d given the room to Amy because it was the closest room to hers. Many nights I’d lain awake listening for her breathing. “There are three thousand twenty-two roses.”
Molly and Judson looked at me, both skeptical.
“It’s true,” I said. “I’ve counted them. Twice.”
“I can count to one hundred,” Molly said.
“One day you’ll count higher,” I said.
A car pulled in the front circle, and Edith Durant got out. I hadn’t called or spoken to her since I’d taken Molly. I braced as she climbed the stairs.
“Grandma is here,” I said.
Molly looked toward the sidelight windows by the front door. “Okay.”
“Do you want to see her?” Judson asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Do you want to spend time with her?” he asked.
“I guess.”
Judson’s gaze skimmed over the child’s head to mine. We both heard the tension.
The front doorbell rang.
“We’ll visit with Grandma here. But for now, I want you to stay with me, okay?” I asked.
Molly nodded. “Okay.”
“Molly, can you show me where the kitchen is?” Judson asked. “I need a cup of coffee.”
“I made a pot,” I said. “Molly, can you help Judson? We’ll be right there.”
“Okay.”
Once they’d vanished into the kitchen, I opened the door to Edith, who stood stiff and stoic. “Edith. I didn’t realize you were coming by.”
Her lips pursed. “I’m here to see my granddaughter. Where is she?”
“In the kitchen. You’re welcome to visit with her,” I said. “But I need to be clear. She stays with me.”
Edith shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “She’s mine.”
“She loves you. But I have custody of her. That’s not changing.”
“Until you get tired of parenting. Until you realize it’s a lot of work.”
“I’m sure I’ll face many challenges.”
“You cannot take her away from me.” Her words were razor sharp.
“I’m not. You can visit her here. But those visits will be here for now. There’s a lot to get through in the next couple of weeks.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Checking in,” I said. “Would you like to join us in the kitchen?”
She eyed me. “You back together with him? You aren’t even divorced yet.”
“Edith.” My voice hardened. “I want us to be cordial. But I won’t let you talk to me like that.”
“I don’t trust you. You took off before.”
“When? After Mom died?”
“You left Hale House. The house and property are a responsibility. An obligation. Gabe, Maria, and I were left to handle it all.”