Page 32 of Trust No One

His head dipped. “What if she doesn’t make it through the night?”

“Hope that she does.”

I used to believe . . .

Bad people are easy to spot.

They have an inner darkness.

They look and move like snakes.

But here’s the truth.

They’re not.

They look like everyone else.

Like me.

Chapter Thirteen

Raine

Saturday, October 17, 2026, 10:30 p.m.

Hospital staff said Maria remained stable. I left Gabe at his mother’s house, reminded him to stay put. He promised—twice.

My headlights swept the narrow country road, then flashed across the twin brick pillars of Hale House. Expectations and old memories slammed against my shoulders.

“Yep, it’s me. Back for more.”

Gravel popped under the SUV’s wheels as I drove up the long driveway. Country darkness was deep and endless, like the ocean—no streetlamps, no neon storefront signs, and no home lights.

A single light clicked on in the second-floor bedroom. I parked in the circle driveway and searched the windows for movement. Nothing.

The light was coming from my mother’s old bedroom. How?

I hadn’t set foot in the room—too many memories.

Beyond the beam of my headlights, shifting shadows shrouded the house’s peeling paint and broken shutters. Faulty wiring explained the light. The system was twenty years past an upgrade.

I killed the engine.

A short circuit made sense.

But still . . . Mom’s room?

When I climbed out of my car, nightfall closed in, thick and heavy. My flashlight app lit the way up the creaking stairs.

Fumbling with the front door key, I jammed it into the lock. The dead bolt resisted before it turned.

Inside, the bedroom light bled under the door, dripping pale gold down the stairs.

The entry chandelier remained dead as I flipped the switch.

More for Brad Lawson’s list.

Until then, the flashlight app. I crossed to another switch and flipped it, and lights blinked on. My shoulders dipped with relief.