Page 17 of Trust No One

“To my mother’s house.”

“Stay away from your house,” Judson said. “I have a forensic team there.”

“This is bullshit.” Gabe’s scowling face vanished as the elevator doors closed.

“You’re treating the cottage as a crime scene?” I asked Judson.

“Until proven otherwise, yes.”

“He wouldn’t poison her,” I said. “No matter how bad it got between them, he wouldn’t hurt her.”

“How do you know that? You said yourself, you haven’t seen her in years. A lot can change.”

He was right. The Gabe and Maria I knew belonged to a different decade. “I’m staying with Maria. I want to be here when she wakes up.”

“Why?”

“To tell her I’m sorry.”

“I’ll let you stay,” Judson said. “But don’t make me regret this.”

“You don’t trust me with her?” A good cop saw everyone as a suspect. But me? That stung.

“No, not fully. Like I said, don’t make me sorry.”

Chapter Eight

Judson

Saturday, October 17, 2026, 9:00 a.m.

The small ranch-style house sat tucked in the northeast corner of the Hale property. When I pulled up, a police vehicle was parked out front. And a forensic truck idled in the driveway. A late-model white minivan that belonged to Maria was there as well.

The doctors still couldn’t explain Maria’s heart attack. Sure, genetics might have been a factor. And strange medical emergencies did happen. But my gut said otherwise—this didn’t feel natural. The Durant house—the caretaker’s cottage—was now a crime scene, and it needed to be sealed. I also wanted to search Gabe’s truck.

Getting a warrant for the house and vehicles had been easy. The judge was 90 percent certain this was a tragic medical emergency. He’d been tight with Raine’s father and uncle back in the day—he remembered their deaths.

But the other 10 percent bothered me. If a Hale had been poisoned, the judge wouldn’t want blowback if he’d missed an opportunity to close the case.

I stepped out of the car. As I passed the minivan, I checked the door handle. Locked. A car seat, covered in crumbs, was secured to the back seat.

When I first moved back to town, Gabe and Maria had invited me over for a welcome-back dinner. The plans got postponed over and over because of Gabe’s work. Finally, we’d met four weeks ago.

When I’d finally shown up, something was off. The air between the couple crackled with tension. I’d heard whispers about their marriage, but I’d brushed them off. That changed when Gabe handed me a beer by the grill.

“Sorry about the cancellations. Work’s been insane,” he said.

“Sounds like a good problem,” I said.

“When it rains, it pours.”

“What companies are you working for?”

“Small ones. You wouldn’t know them. Ken gave me the leads.”

“Ken Watson?”

“Yeah.”