Page 65 of Trust No One

Detective Hutchinson had an easy, smooth voice that had coaxed many confessions. “Don’t know. I had you here, so I thought I’d ask. Crossing all my t’s and dotting my i’s, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know anything about Mrs. Hale.”

“Didn’t say you did. But I got video footage that proves you can be fast and loose with the facts.”

“I was having a few beers. Keeping to myself. A guy hassled me.” Gabe tossed out the words as if he believed them.

“I hear ya, buddy. Long week working in the hot sun. All a guy wants to do is kick back.”

“Yeah.”

Detective Hutchinson let silence stretch between them. “Where is Amy Stocker these days?”

“I don’t know. I heard she left town.”

“I saw someone in the bar fight footage that looks like her.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Hard to miss her. She still looks a lot like Raine Hale.”

“I didn’t see Amy in the bar.”

Memories of the video lingered as I searched the floors and under the seats. In the back seat under the floor mat, I found an AirTag. Interesting. Was Maria tracking her husband?

I opened the glove compartment. Vehicle owner’s manual, prescription anxiety pills, and a billy club.

I shifted my focus from the cab to the truck’s bed to the cross-bed toolbox. A lock dangled from the latch. I requested bolt cutters from the deputy.

When he placed them in my hand, I snapped the lock.

Inside the toolbox were more basics. Clippers, a small toolbox, ratchet straps and tie-downs, and a small chainsaw. After I’d emptied it all, I saw the small packet of white pills wedged in a corner.

“What do you think that is?” the deputy asked.

“Not sure.” But I had a good idea. “The lab needs to confirm.”

I put the items back in the utility box.

My mind drifted back to the video footage Hutchinson had obtained. The film had proven Gabe had started the fight, and something I hadn’t been expecting—Amy had been in the bar that night.

She hadn’t approached Gabe. But from her corner of the bar, she’d kept a close eye on him until the fight. A broken beer bottle. Shattered glass. Blood. Then she’d vanished into the crowd.

Gabe’s case went to the district attorney, and he was charged with assault. Because he’d used the bottle’s jagged edge as a weapon, the charges were upgraded to a felony. He’d done eighteen months of a four-year sentence.

The questions about Mrs. Hale died away. And Amy had been forgotten.

I hadn’t thought about Amy over the years. Memories of her were buried under bigger issues.

I took the pills into evidence.

As I waited for the deputy to log it in, I searched social media and found Amy Stocker easily. She was in real estate. She listed all kinds of accolades. I hadn’t seen her in years, and her headshot caught me off guard.

She still looked like Raine Hale.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Raine