Page 39 of Trust No One

My five-alarm-fire life had frayed my nerves. Left me short tempered. “What about permanent damage?”

“A scan of her heart shows muscle damage on the left side. But if the rest of her systems come online, she should be able to work around it with modifications.”

“She’s a distance runner,” Gabe said.

“That hobby might have to change,” Dr. Webber said.

“What about brain damage?” I asked. “The lack of oxygen could have caused issues.”

“MRI shows no visible damage. But when she wakes, we’ll know more.”

“You’ve changed her rooms, declared her a little better, but it’s still anyone’s guess,” Gabe said.

At the bedside, Dr. Webber lifted Maria’s eyelids, flashing a penlight over the pupils. Did they react or not? She checked the pulse in her wrist and ankles. Listened with a stethoscope to her chest. “Her heart rate is weak but steady. She’s stable. That’s good.”

Gabe took Maria’s hand. He traced his thumb over her ring finger where her wedding band had been. “Where’s her ring?”

“With her possessions in the bag,” Dr. Webber said.

I reached in the bag, skimmed the slim silver rings in a side pocket, and handed them to him. “It’s here,” I said.

He slipped the small solitaire diamond and slender silver band on his pinkie finger. Absently he touched the diamond.

“Folks,” Dr. Webber said, “too many of you in the room.”

“I’ll leave,” I said before Gabe could speak. “I’ll be outside.”

In the hallway, I inhaled and shoved my hands in my pockets. My phone dinged with a text.

Ken: My people tell me Maria’s heart attack definitely wasn’t natural.

My vision narrowed to the line of text.

Me: How do you know?

Ken: Dr. Webber suspects cyanide poisoning.

Me: Cyanide?

Ken: Small doses can kill over time. But give it to someone with an underlying heart problem—heart attack.

Me: How do you know this?

Ken: I’m that good.

Me: Stay out of it, okay?

Ken: I’m always here for you.

Chapter Fifteen

Raine

Sunday, October 18, 2026, 8:00 a.m.

“Everything all right?” Judson asked.

I pushed my phone in my back pocket. “Ken.”