Page 117 of Trust No One

“Easy to confuse the two in dim light.” Meg shrugged.

“Continue.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Someone didn’t lock Mrs. Hale’s door. She escaped without shoes or a jacket into the chilly night. Mrs. Hale wasn’t found until the next day, am I right?”

“Correct. The medical examiner listed her cause of death as natural,” I said.

“It wouldn’t have taken much to push someone like Amy to leave a door open. Mrs. Hale was dead. And Raine was free to live her life.”

“Raine fired Amy after her mother’s death. She left Hale House and didn’t move back for seventeen years.”

“But Amy never forgot Hale House or Raine. She still wanted this house.”

“All the players that threatened Hale House are gone.”

I’d worried about Raine’s coldness after her mother’s death. I’d never seen her cry or crumble.

But letting her mother out of her room? Or manipulating Amy to let her escape? A fragile woman like Mrs. Hale wouldn’t have lasted long in the woods. Did Maria figure it out? Did she blackmail Raine for money? Was Raine willing to kill anyone else who might have known her secret? Maria, Gabe, and Amy.

All the threats had been eliminated.

And each road led to one person—Raine.

Chapter Forty-Five

Raine

Wednesday, October 21, 2026, 11:00 p.m.

I dozed in fits in the hospital chair. The back dug into me, forcing me to shift. Each time my eyes closed, Maria appeared. Standing over me. Pointing. Her mouth was open in a silent accusation. “You and Amy . . . what game are you playing?”

“Mommy!”

Molly’s scream snapped me awake. I jerked forward, the purple dragon tumbling from my lap to the floor.

I grabbed the toy and stumbled to her bed. “Molly, I’m here.”

The child’s watery eyes fluttered open. When she met my gaze, panic flared. “Amy, where’s Mommy?”

In a breath, the complexity of Gabe and Amy’s affair hit hard. “I’m not Amy, honey. I’m Raine.”

I smoothed my hand over the child’s head.

I’d counseled grieving people before. I’d learned that lying to avoid pain usually ended badly. But I’d never had this conversation with a child. “Mommy is gone, baby.”

“Gone where?”

Unshed tears clogged my throat. “She and Daddy went to live with God. In heaven.”

Confusion tightened the girl’s face. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Molly’s lips trembled. “When are they coming back?”

My chest clenched. “They aren’t coming back, honey.” I’d debated how to tell Molly. But no scenario I’d run was exactly right.

The child’s distant stare told me she didn’t understand. The news hadn’t penetrated her addled mind. It was too much to process.