Page 56 of Trust No One

“She was a teenager with no family. She was searching for an identity.”

“That didn’t bother you?”

“I took it as a backhanded compliment.”

The lines in his face deepened. “Why did you let Amy live in Hale House?”

A sigh rushed from me. “Her nights and weekends at the house helped me get out and live a little. And yes, it gave her time to go through my stuff. I knew when she tried on my clothes. When my perfume had been sprayed. My jewelry worn. But I wasn’t attached to much in that house. All those things were symbols of a crumbling family.”

“You never talked about your mother much.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. You were focused on your future, and no one had a rescue net big enough to save me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Your job wasn’t to be my life raft. You were a kid, barely keeping your own head above water.”

“I thought I let you down.”

The weight of unspoken emotions deepened the lines on his face. “No. The exact opposite. I’d have gone insane without you.”

He frowned as he always had, entirely, with every muscle in his body.

“Don’t take us personally,” I said. “We were already headed our separate ways. I didn’t want to dump more on your back.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Pete Miller

Monday, October 19, 2026, 11:00 a.m.

Pete Miller sat across from his court-appointed attorney. A middle-aged guy. Gut draping over a cheap, rumpled suit. Thinning hair. Didn’t smell like exotic perfume. His handwriting wasn’t neat and precise.

He’d hit the lottery when Raine Hale had taken his case. She didn’t have the talent to save him jail time—not even God could after what he’d done. But Raine was one of the best. She’d argue that his ex’s bones had healed. The bruises had faded. No scars on the outside. A jury would have listened to the polished, perfect Raine. She’d have found a way to shave time from his sentence.

Pete never dreamed about the ex. He’d already forgotten what she looked like.

But Raine . . .

He dreamed about her nightly. He imagined stroking her soft skin. Kissing her lips. Hearing her moan.

Touching her had become an obsession.

And he had.

Too much. Too fast. Too violent.

In those seconds when her pulse throbbed wildly against his hands, he’d felt alive. Her bright eyes fixated on him. They were one.

And then it was over.

He missed Raine Hale.

“Am I getting bail?” he asked.

The loser attorney, who looked too stupid to walk and chew gum at the same time, glanced at his notes. “There’s a path.”

“I’ll do anything.”