Page 51 of Trust No One

Me: I’m good.

Ken: Can I see you?

Me: Not now.

A pause.

Ken: I’m here for you.

He knew when to push and when to pretend that he didn’t have a dog in the fight. But he always had an agenda.

I dumped the last of my coffee and tossed uneaten toast in the trash. Up the back staircase, I showered under lukewarm water that left a chill feathering through my body.

Water off, I towel-dried and coiled my hair. I chose black fitted pants, a bold blue sweater with a delicate V-neck, and chunky ankle boots. The finisher was a leather jacket.

When my phone rang, and the hospital number appeared, I braced. “Raine Hale.”

“This is Dr. Webber. Your cousin is awake.”

“Awake? How is she?”

“Confused. Moving slow. But she’s alert.”

“Have you called her husband?”

“Yes. He says he’s on his way.”

“So am I.”

Maria was awake. This, I hoped, was going to be a good day. A celebration. I hoped.

Chapter Twenty

Raine

Monday, October 19, 2026, 8:00 a.m.

I parked in the hospital garage, nerves frayed, stomach hollow. The drive back and forth to the hospital had become a grim loop. Out of my car, I inhaled crisp, damp air.

Footsteps echoed behind me. I spun, hand slipping into my purse toward my pepper spray. Judson. He stood too close behind me.

“Dr. Webber called you?” I asked.

“She did.”

No uniform—dark pants, a white shirt, a leather jacket, black cowboy boots, a .45 holstered on his hip. The only uniform I’d seen him wear had been on game day. Football came with a scholarship dream he’d chased without loving the sport, but he still hit like a sledgehammer.

“She said she called Gabe. He should be on his way.”

“Any word from Ken?” he asked.

“He’s still checking in.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. Ken was a raw nerve. Our footsteps fell in toward the elevators. “Why?”

“That’s the big question.”

“Any trouble at Hale House?” he asked.