Page 58 of Trust No One

He dipped his head, looking remorseful. A classic Ken move. “I’m not a choirboy, Raine. But I do care about you. I want you safe.”

What hidden agenda lurked under the words? “I’m fine. Thank you for checking in.”

“No signs of Pete?”

The mists had shifted this morning. Steps creaked. “Unless he has a rocket, it takes three hours to drive here.”

He glanced at the chipped paint on the siding. “The old place is looking a little rough.”

“Never good to insult a woman’s appearance.”

He grinned. “What’re you going to do with her?”

“Don’t know.”

“How could you not know? Selling is the only choice. She’s nothing but trouble.”

So was he. “Ken, thank you for stopping. Have a safe drive back to Northern Virginia.”

“There was a time when all we did was laugh.”

He could make me laugh. And so wet. I remembered our first purchase for the Alexandria house—a coffee table so new the sales tag still dangled from the side. He’d ordered me to sit on it. Scoot to the edge. The quiet order had been thrilling. So, I did. Then, as instructed, I lay back and put my hands over my head. He pulled off my shorts and pressed my legs apart. His hungry stare raked over me. When he shoved inside me, I’d come almost instantly.

The feeling had been intoxicating.

And then reality rushed us. Jobs, stress, the dull days of marriage that followed. He spent more time on the road. And then the text messages.

“It’s done, Ken. Thanks again for coming.”

“I’m staying in town for a few days. I’ve checked into the hotel on Route 250.”

“Why?”

“I’m worried. A woman, a good friend of mine, your cousin, was poisoned. Pete Miller. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“It’s Judson’s case.”

“Yeah, well, a little backup doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“You aren’t a cop.”

“I have more connections than he does.”

There’d always been a one-upmanship between Ken and Judson. Less for Judson, maybe because Ken was aware he’d come in second. “I’ll leave it to you gentlemen.”

I opened the front door. Hinges squeaked as I closed it. I waited for the sound of Ken’s footsteps crossing the porch—for his engine to fire. Silence said he lingered, waiting for what, I didn’t know. I hid in the house, and shadows wrapped around me.

I’d lived a coward’s life. Too afraid to demand Judson pay attention to me in high school. Too selfish to ask Amy why she was copying my appearance. Too afraid to confront Ken until it was impossible not to.

Steady footsteps crossed the front porch. A car engine revved. The relief was temporary. Just knowing he was in town meant I would see him again.

I climbed the stairs to my room and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. Down the hallway, I moved to my old bedroom and opened my closet, filled with stale and dusty air. Odd to see clothes hanging on racks where I’d left them seventeen years ago.

The Hale estate trust had settled quickly. I was the sole heir. The estate had covered my education and supplied me with some monthly spending money. But the bulk remained in reserve for land taxes.

When I left after high school graduation, I thought I’d return by the winter holiday break. But as the time approached, I found excuses not to. My few drive-by visits had always lasted less than an hour.

Now my thirty-fifth birthday was Wednesday. A date that had seemed so distant once was days away. Five hundred acres of land, a crumbling house, and debts would all be mine.