Page 8 of Trust No One

Then I followed Judson to Room #3.

I braced. My last time here, I’d been fifteen. Brain dead was what the doctor had said about my father. He had suffered a heart attack, swerved off the road, and slammed into a tree. He died four hours after I’d arrived. On quiet nights, my mother’s loud screams still haunted me.

Judson stood close. Silent and waiting.

I moved around the curtain. Maria lay still. Her face was pale. A respirator in her mouth. IVs ran from muscled arms already withering.

In April, Gabe had FaceTimed me with Molly on her fifth birthday.

“Sorry, Raine,” Gabe said. “Maria is at work.”

“On Molly’s birthday?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Hard to say no to the money.”

Code: She was still pissed because I’d denied her the last loan.

Molly wore her soccer jersey. “I made a goal!”

Gabe grinned. “She sure did.”

“Are you doing okay?” I asked.

Gabe hugged Molly close. “We’re great.”

I’d been a public defender for seven years. I’d learned to spot lies and false promises. “Love to you all.”

I squeezed Maria’s icy hand. “What’s going on here, Judson?”

“The doctor is running tests. CT scans, MRI, blood work.”

Maria’s body remained still, her face slack under the ventilator mask and tubes. “What’re they testing for?”

“Fentanyl. Heroin. Cocaine. Barbiturates.”

The most common overdose offenders. I’d never known Maria to have a substance abuse problem, but that was before we’d lost touch. “And in the meantime?”

“She stays here.”

Remembering that the unconscious could sometimes hear, I met Judson’s gaze and nodded to the door. “I’ll be back, Maria.”

In the hallway, Judson folded muscled arms over his chest. We hadn’t been this physically close in seventeen years. But forgotten lures pulled. Once his casual touch had made my heartbeat accelerate.

His stoic expression gave no sign he remembered us.

“I’m calling her mother-in-law,” I said. “Gabe needs to be here.”

“He does.”

I dialed Edith’s number. My call went to voicemail. It was late. But this was an emergency.

“Gabe told the responding officer he was taking his daughter to his mother’s house.” Judson checked his watch. “A deputy followed him. Knowing Gabe, I should’ve swung by and picked him up.”

Was that why Edith hadn’t answered? “Do you think Gabe’s a threat?” I asked.

“I’m assuming he’s not thinking clearly,” Judson said. “And scared animals can be rash and dangerous.”

I’d become too familiar with my job in the public defender’s office, and I’d forgotten that critical lesson. And it had almost gotten me killed.