Page 70 of Trust No One

He looked faintly amused. “You used to rise with the sun.”

“Still do. Just moving a little slower today.”

Freshly shaved, leather jacket with the state police crest, crisp khakis. Boots. That same clean soap scent.

Judson’s brow raised. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Just put a pot of coffee on.”

His eyes roamed the entryway as he stepped in. “Place still looks good.”

I almost laughed. Two days ago, the house’s flaws had been glaring. Chipped black-and-white floor tiles, gray walls dulled to a muddy iron, and broken banister spindles. Now, they leaned toward charm. Like wrinkles, like silver hair. Imperfections telling their own story.

“Any word from the contractor?” Judson asked.

“Brad is likely still adding up numbers that are too big for his calculator.”

“Brad’s solid. And he knows the property. Didn’t he work here one summer?”

That was the year I was “away,” as my mother said. The year of shame, healing, acceptance. “He took care of the grounds. What’s his story these days?”

Judson smiled. “Far as I know he’s kept his nose clean and works hard.”

“Clean?”

“A substance abuse problem. Been sober ten years.”

“Good to know.” Energy radiated from Judson’s frame and wrapped around me. I’d once felt safe in his arms. “You didn’t come here to talk about my renovation issues.”

“No.”

“Maria?” I headed to the kitchen. “Any updates?”

“Holding her own.” Heavy footsteps followed. “How did she seem when you saw her last night?”

“You know about my visit?”

“The staff keeps me posted.”

I grabbed a large mug in the cabinet. “Who else has been by her room?”

“Sadly, Raine, this is not a two-way conversation. I ask. You answer.”

Cops. Always on guard around attorneys—even underemployed ones. I filled the cup with coffee and handed it to him. “This visit is official, not social?”

“Correct.” Calloused fingers brushed mine as he took the cup.

“Maria and I didn’t talk about much. Ken was there.”

“Ken? I’d heard he was back in town.” No doubt he’d slipped past the nurses. “What did he want?”

“A way to worm under my skin.”

“Again, why?”

“That you’ll have to ask him. I’m not privy to his agenda.”

“How did Maria seem?”