Page 7 of Trust No One

He towered over me but didn’t dip his head toward me as he once had. “Gabe Durant called 9-1-1 at approximately eight p.m. He reported his wife had passed out and wasn’t breathing. He attempted CPR, which kept her alive until the paramedics got there. When Maria Durant arrived here, Dr. Webber determined she’d suffered a cardiac arrest. If Dr. Webber hadn’t been in the emergency room, there’s a good chance Maria would’ve died.”

His tone was clinical.

But the way he looked at me?

That felt like an accusation.

I used to believe . . .

Good planning leads to success.

But here’s the truth.

There’s always a variable.

One stray thread, one mistake . . .

can ruin everything.

That’s why you need a plan B.

Sometimes a plan C, too.

Chapter Four

Raine

Saturday, October 17, 2026, 2:45 a.m.

Judson’s account was precise. Professional. No emotion. No drama. And I clung to the direct facts like a raft. Because if he blinked wrong—looked at me sideways—I’d have crumbled.

“How?” My voice was tighter than intended. “She’s in her thirties. She’s healthy.”

“The doctor ran additional blood tests, including several toxicology screens.”

“Tox screens. Drugs?” I hadn’t seen Maria in years, but she never drank much. Never used. “She’s a health nut.”

“Two things can be true at once,” he said, exhaling. “People can hide intimate secrets from everyone.”

“This is Maria we’re talking about.”

His brow furrowed, brown eyes sharpening. “Everyone lies, Raine.”

“Since when do the state police care about an overdose?”

“Sheriff Puckett called me.” A pause. “The Hale name gets attention. And she and Gabe are my friends.”

The careful comment partly appeased my fury. Judson’s steady temperament could do that. “I know. I’m sorry. Can I see Maria?”

“Sure,” he said carefully. “She’s in the ICU.”

“Okay.” ICU meant tubes. Pale skin. Blue veins. The beep of endless monitors—a place where people went to die.

I followed him through double doors. Beyond them: six glass-encased rooms. Two nurses sat behind a desk, eyes flickering between screens, watching glowing lines and dipping numbers.

Judson leaned in, talked to a nurse. She nodded, like they’d already spoken.

I introduced myself.