Chapter Sixty-Seven Raine
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Raine
The steady thud of footsteps across the front porch jolted me out of a restless sleep. My eyes flew open. Molly was still curled beside me, breathing deep after her own fitful sleep. The lights downstairs still burned, a glaring reminder of my fears.
Amy’s secret closet. The tokens. The scorch marks in the attic. They chased me as I slid off the bed, still in yesterday’s clothes.
I slipped out of the room and down the center staircase.
Through the glass panels on either side of the front door, I caught Judson’s frame. Rubbing my eyes, I glimpsed the grandfather clock. It was six thirty.
Shoving back wild strands of my hair, I opened the door. “Judson.”
His frown deepened. “Did I wake you? All the lights were on, so I decided to knock.”
“I left them on.”
“You okay?” His voice held an edge, though something tender tugged against it.
“I’m okay,” I rushed to say. “I was lying down with Molly.”
Cold air rushed as he stepped inside the foyer. I shut the door behind him, wishing he’d been here last night.
Chilly hands cupped my face as he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Relieved to see him, I fisted his cool jacket and pulled him a little closer.
For a moment, he said nothing. But tension rippled up his body. “Rough night?”
“This house . . .” My throat tightened.
His gaze softened. “It’s a lot.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
He laid his hands on my shoulders. “The exhumation will now be today, not next week. The funeral home will also dig Maria’s and Gabe’s graves today.”
“That was quick.”
“Better to get it done.”
The air trapped in my lungs slowly released. “Okay. When will they be here today? I need to get Molly out of here so she doesn’t see it.”
“Morning. No specific time.”
“So fast.”
“Sooner is better than later.”
“Okay, sure. Molly should be up soon.” I rubbed my eyes. “Can I make you a coffee?”
“Sure. That would be great.”
He followed me into the kitchen. “How did it go with Molly last night?”
“We spent a chunk of the evening searching for ghosts.” I busied myself with a fresh filter for the coffee machine and extra scoops of grounds.
“Find anything?”
“No spirits, but I did discover something that was very odd in Mom’s old room.”
He dipped his head closer. “Can’t wait.”
“It appears Amy was living in the primary suite closet. There’s a mattress, blankets, and a lamp. There’s also a trunk with clothes, a scrapbook featuring me, and a collection of handwritten notes. The notes are written in Maria’s handwriting.” None of this made sense. How did Amy get the notes?
A frown creased his brow. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“It was one in the morning. And what could you do about it at that time of night?”
“I would’ve come.” His tone was grave, sincere.
A smile teased my lips. “I know.”
“How long has it been since you were in the room?”
“Seventeen years. Once it was cleaned out, I closed it and never looked back.”
“I want to see it.”
“Sure.”
“We know she was obsessed with you.”
I switched on the coffee maker and reached for two mugs. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and showed him the images I’d taken of the closet. “I thought her obsession was a high school thing. But she has images of me as recent as this year.”
His frown deepened as he scrolled. “Most of these pictures are old or from the web.”
“The last few were taken after I was released from the hospital three and a half weeks ago. I don’t remember her or anyone else standing across the street taking pictures, but I was distracted.” I shook my head. “She was so close. But I never saw her.”
“Was Ken with you?”
“Yes, he drove me home. The hospital wouldn’t release me without a driver. He left immediately.” I’d been ready to drive to Hale House that day. But I’d needed rest and time to shake the painkillers from my system.
“Like you said, you just got out of the hospital.” He looked up. “And these were in her scrapbook?”
“They were.”
He enlarged the images of me on the town house’s front step. I was looking over my shoulder, as if I sensed something was off. He swiped back through the images. “She was with Ken at a football game in high school.”
“I saw them together once or twice. They were just walking, not touching.”
“In all these years, he never mentioned Amy to you?”
“No. But Ken isn’t known for his candor. Secrets are par for the course.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Blink, and you might see him here. He keeps coming by. Now he wants marriage counseling.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But whatever reunion he’s imagining isn’t happening.” I poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of him.
“What attracted you to Ken?” The question carried the weight of years of consideration.
I leaned against the counter, remembering.
“Seventy-hour workweeks. No social life. Lonely. He happened into a bar where I was having drinks with a few coworkers.” I’d been in a good mood.
A client of mine who’d been charged with murdering his wife had been given life in prison.
One loss for me. A big win for society. We hugged. “He reminded me of home.” Of Judson.
“And that was enough?”
“He can be very charming.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. But you saw through it in high school.”
“After all the hours I’d logged with felons, he seemed normal. And he made me laugh. He showered me with calls, texts, flowers, dinners. Swept me off my feet.”
“The classic danger signals.”
I nodded, smiling. “Love-bombing documentaries aside, the tactic is very effective. Lesson learned.”
Strong fingers stroked my shoulder. “That’s in the past.”
“It is. I have Molly now. Hale House needs to be razed or saved. And after seeing the remodel bids, I’ll be selling a lot of land to make it happen.”
He set his cup down. He took my hands in his, rubbing his calloused thumb over my palm. “Ever thought what life would have been like if we’d been a little smarter seventeen years ago?”
His touch stoked so many emotions. “We weren’t dumb. We were kids with a lot to figure out. Even if we’d made a run for it, there’s no guarantee we’d have survived.”
Judson shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been easy, but we’d have made it.”
The last seventeen years played out in rapid flashes. College. Law school. His injury that sidelined his career in football. Police academy. My job as a public defender. Ken. The attack by my client. “We’ll never know.”
He drew in a slow breath. “Do you believe in second chances?”
“I’ve made my career chasing them for my clients.” Maybe that’s why I’d done it. My life hadn’t been on track, but that didn’t mean others’ couldn’t be righted. “Keep in mind, I have Molly now.”
“I’m good with that.” His deep voice was soft, soothing, full of resolve.
“Okay.”
He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. Excitement rose in me just as it had in the barn the first time we’d made love. I leaned into him, savoring it all.
Feet hit the ground upstairs and Molly shouted, “Raine!”
I stepped back, but his hand rested on my forearm. I didn’t want Molly to catch us like this. I had too much going on now.
“Go,” Judson said softly.
I lingered a beat. “Okay.”
“I want to see the closet.”
“Sure. Last room at the end of the hallway.”
He followed me up the stairs and waited for me to duck into Molly’s room before he strode toward Mom’s room.
It took me twenty minutes to get her up and dressed. She wasn’t in much of a talkative mood, and I was grateful.
Outside, the rumble of trucks reverberated down the driveway. The gravediggers were early.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Trucks.”
“Oh.” She showed no interest.
“Judson is here,” I said. “He just arrived for coffee.”
“Oh. Does he drive a truck?”
“He does, but the big ones aren’t his.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Let’s get something to eat.”
I toasted one of Ken’s bagels, smeared butter on it, and put it in front of Molly with a glass of juice.
We ate in silence for twenty minutes before Judson returned, studying his phone. A frown furrowed his brow. When he saw us, he slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Good morning, Molly,” Judson said.
She nodded.
“What do you say, Molly?”
“Good morning.”
He poured and then sipped coffee. “Did you sleep well?”
And in all seriousness, she said, “Yes. No ghosts woke me up.”
A faint smile. “That’s good, right?”
“I wanted to meet one.” Pouting, she looked out the back window as the sun was peeking above the distant mountains. “Why are the trucks here?”
“They’re digging holes,” he said.
Molly frowned but didn’t press. She was a smart kid. And if she guessed the answer, she didn’t want to talk about it.