Page 147 of Trust No One

Glad to see him, I stepped aside so he could pass. “Doors and windows locked. Child in bed for now. Googling how to raise children.”

“You’re thinking that far ahead?”

I closed the door and locked it. “I have to.”

The evening cold clung to him. “Have you spoken to Edith?”

I hesitated—shook my head. “I keep putting it off.”

“Will she fight you?” Judson asked.

A frustrated sigh leaked as I shut off the TV. “She might.”

His gaze fixed on mine. “What if Molly wants to go with her?”

I motioned for him to sit on the couch. “She’s a child. She can’t make that kind of decision.”

He sat. I sat near him, drawn to his energy. “But . . .”

“I don’t know. I’m Maria’s age. Edith’s in her late sixties. The last few days have been a strain. She’s dealing with the death of her only son. I don’t think she can keep up with a five-year-old long term.”

“Would you take Molly back to Northern Virginia?”

Technically, I was on medical leave and my life was there. Originally, the move felt temporary; now it felt a million miles away. Until I thought about Pete—then the distance shriveled. “I’m not going back.”

A heavy silence churned with Judson’s unspoken thoughts. “Fair enough.”

“Any more on the investigation?” I asked.

“The animal remains have been sent to the lab. We’ll know soon enough. Still piecing it together.” A pause. “More signs of Ken?”

Seemed odd to upgrade locks on doors that might ultimately be removed after the renovation. “No. Double-checked the doors. The locksmith installed additional catches on the downstairs window sashes, but he warned me the windowpanes are delicate and easy to break.”

All the years of living here had never bothered me. I’d never felt vulnerable in Hale House. I did now. I’d pack up Molly and leave, but the investigation, funeral, and yes, the house’s legacy anchored me here. For now.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Silence. “That’s your favorite f-word, isn’t it?”

A sudden smile spread across my face. “I use others.”

“But this one’s your favorite. You about wore it out when we were dating in high school. No matter the problem, challenge, or award, it was all fine. After we found your mother, it was all fine.”

“It’s a multipurpose word. It’s positive but also shuts down additional questions.” I leaned back against the couch, wishing he’d touch me.

His gaze skimmed over me. “It was a shield. A way to deflect.”

“Maybe. But as I remember, you were never a fan of questions.”

“What question didn’t I answer?” His voice was low and steady.

After Mom died, silence had crashed between us, like a mountain of stones. I deflected with fine because probing questions scared me. And Judson accepted my fines because he didn’t want to dig deep. “We never talked about my mother. We never processed finding her body.”

An unspoken agreement had settled between Judson and me that had grown thicker after Detective Hutchinson’s interviews. Mom’s funeral. “It was a lot for two young people.”

“We’re grown up now.”