Page 53 of Trust No One

“Can you give me an update before he arrives?”

The doctor shifted her focus to me. “Your cousin woke up about two hours ago. She was groggy and confused. Some of that has eased, but she’s still weak.”

“Does she know her name, date, where she is?” I asked.

“Time will tell, but her basic cognitive skills appear to be intact. She’s asking for her daughter.”

“That’s a good sign,” I said.

“Has she asked for her husband?” Judson asked.

“Just her daughter. And you.” Dr. Webber glanced at Judson. Her expression, a tad too stoic, was the kind a person donned when they wanted their big secret to stay . . . secret.

Judson’s expression didn’t change, but he was as practiced at keeping his cards close as I was. A man couldn’t slip into undercover work and pretend without being able to lie convincingly.

“What are you two not telling me?” I asked.

Dr. Webber looked at Judson.

His jaw pulsed. Brown eyes settled on me. “Let’s see Maria. We’ll talk after.”

Imaginary doors slammed closed around him. When Judson was focused, he locked out everyone. And even when I’d been in his little circle, I never felt truly included. Sex—always good—kept us together. We were young, new, and desperate for a release. After the tether had snapped, we drifted back to our lonely corners. Our last real bonding moment—in the sack—had been early spring. He’d softly told me he loved me as I dozed. Later, I’d wonder if his words were real or imagined.

I moved toward Maria’s room, glancing at my empty hands. Should I have brought something? She liked sunflowers and daisies, but it hadn’t occurred to me until now. I pushed back the curtain and found the nurse checking Maria’s IV.

Maria’s eyes found me as I stepped in. “Amy. I’m sorry.”

The name and apology caught me off guard. I supposed near death had a way of confusing a person. I resisted the urge to look behind me for Amy. “No. It’s not Amy. It’s Raine.”

“Raine.” Her still, dry throat crumpled my name into ragged bits.

Maria and I had not spoken in a year. Our last conversation had been an argument. She’d hung up on me.

I leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Your cousin. Your least favorite family member.”

She studied me closely, searching, and then recognition. “The great shrinking Hale family.”

Clinging to an old grudge didn’t matter now. Maria was right: There weren’t many Hales left. “Glad to have you back.”

She closed her eyes. Moistened her lips. “Not sure about that. Feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.”

The words dwindled like a hose running out of water. “It’s going to take time. You suffered a heart attack.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said.

Not the time for detailed conversations. “You might have an underlying heart condition,” I added. “A combination of the Hale and Cooper heart problems.”

“Of course.” Now free of the intubation tube, she rasped. “Gabe?”

“He’s on his way. He’s making sure Molly gets her breakfast.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine and with Edith. She doesn’t know about all this. We thought it better to wait and see.”

“Good.”

A grin teased my lips. “Now that you’re awake, it’s a matter of time before you are up and about.”