Page 36 of Trust No One

And sometimes . . .

we love them.

Chapter Fourteen

Raine

Sunday, October 18, 2026, 6:00 a.m.

Hale House groaned like an old man riddled with pain. Wind rattled brittle windows, leaked through cracks, and chilled the air.

My face was cold. I burrowed deeper into my blankets. My brain wouldn’t stop buzzing. Last night’s half bottle of wine tempted me from the kitchen, but I needed a clear head today.

So I hovered in the no-man’s-land squeezed between awake and asleep. Finally, I gave up, tossed off the covers. Bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, sending a shock wave through me.

Shivering, I turned on the shower’s hottish tap. The pipes shook and finally sputtered out tepid water. I quickly washed away the hospital. When the heat waned, I shut off the water, stepped into the chill, and toweled off.

From my suitcase, I scrounged up a heavy lime sweater, jeans, and socks. Wet hair, finger combed, draped my shoulders before I twisted it into a knot. Cell in my back pocket, I hurried past sullen ancestors down the narrow back staircase to the kitchen.

Out the window, heavy mist hovered over the back lawn. Something moved in the fog—just a flicker. Seconds passed. I stared. Watched. Judson’s warning of squatters and illegal dump sites reminded me I wasn’t so alone out here.

But the haze steadied and stilled.

From the cabinet, I grabbed fresh coffee grounds, filters, and a clean coffee cup. I’d been too dazed yesterday to wonder who’d stocked the supplies. But now . . .

Edith? Maria? Gabe? No one had known I was returning to Hale House.

The old coffee maker gurgled. Sunlight warmed the kitchen. Outside, the visibility remained low. I filled a cup. Drank half. Bad coffee was a terrible way to start a day. I tossed the remains in the sink.

I slid on my down jacket with a faux-fur collar. Shouldering my purse, I hurried out the front door. I locked it. Double-checked the dead bolt.

In my car, the engine fired. The heat blasted cold air over my damp hair. A headache thudded behind my right eye. From my purse, I grabbed a bottle of aspirin and downed two. I nosed the car toward the gate. The chilled blast of air slowly warmed as I passed through the entry pillars.

The five-mile stretch of the rural two-lane road that looped around the estate was empty. I jammed the accelerator, revving the engine to seventy, barreling past ruby-red and golden trees.

When Maria and I were teenagers, this was our favorite stretch of road. Windows open, air blowing our hair, she’d crank the radio and demand I drive faster. A few times a deputy flashed his lights and pulled me over. But the Hale name was my get-out-of-jail-free card.

“I wish my last name was Hale,” Maria had said.

My father’s sister, Maria’s mother, Rene, had married a Cooper. Hale was Maria’s middle name, but as Mom said, it wasn’t the same. The Hale surname mattered. “Without Hale, Cooper is meaningless.”

I called Gabe.

“Raine.”

“I’m headed to Edith’s house. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

“Raine, Molly had a rough night. She just fell asleep.”

“I’m sorry. But you should see Maria.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll be at the hospital in an hour.”

I gripped the steering wheel. “Don’t bail on me.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t be late.”