Page 34 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

Oscar texted first thing Tuesday morning to say that he’d be seeing Ray Dugan in a little while, so we made plans to meet afterward.

As I drank my coffee in the kitchen, I listened for any sign of Wren’s return—she hadn’t appeared in the hallway bathroom last night, or downstairs since I’d been awake.

But there was nothing. Out of sorts, I had retreated to the parlor with a dog-eared volume of Mary Oliver poems that I’d pulled from the bookshelves when I saw Louise through the window, approaching the house.

Tucked beneath one arm was a basket of cleaning supplies; in the other was a laundry bag.

I let her in, and her gaze swept the room, as had become her habit.

“I haven’t seen her lately,” I said, answering her unspoken question.

She let out a breath as though relieved. “I’m sorry for disturbing you,” she said. “I was going to wait until you left before I came by, but Reece and I have an appointment this morning. Will my cleaning up bother you? I could always wait until the afternoon.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m finished in the bedroom.”

“Would it be all right for me to vacuum the downstairs?”

“Yes, I’ll be leaving soon anyway.” Then, eager to gather as much information as I could before meeting Nash, I held up a finger. “But if you have time, I have a few questions.”

She tensed slightly. “About Wren?”

“What was she like?” I asked. When she didn’t respond, I added, “I don’t think I can help her unless I know who she really was.”

“She was family,” Louise answered.

I waited. The silence stretched out, and then Louise’s shoulders sagged as she lowered the basket to the floor.

“Everyone loved Wren,” she finally said. “But she wasn’t perfect.”

“Please,” I said, “I just want the truth.”

“The truth,” she repeated, her expression almost thoughtful.

“The truth is that Joyce doted on her. In the old days, people would have said Wren was spoiled. She was never an easy child, always quick to throw a tantrum when she didn’t get what she wanted.

I think that’s the reason she didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. ”

I tried to mask my surprise. “She didn’t?”

“Maybe it would be more accurate to say that she couldn’t keep friends.

She’d have a friend for a year or two, and then they’d stop coming around.

She’d replace them with someone else, and the pattern would repeat.

I don’t think that ever changed. As for her teen years, they were a heartache for Joyce.

Wren didn’t do well in school, she hung out with the wrong kinds of kids, and she got in trouble more than a few times—even got arrested once.

Minor offenses—drinking, trespassing, and the like—but still.

” She shook her head. “Joyce used to tell me how much she was looking forward to Wren heading off to college so she’d finally have a break, but of course, Wren didn’t leave. ”

“Why not?”

“Because she knew Joyce would always take care of her,” Louise answered, as though it was obvious.

“When Wren was growing up, Joyce bought her clothes and a car and paid her cellphone bill and gave her cash whenever she asked. Did you know that Wren even talked Joyce into lending her money to open a shop downtown? Joyce didn’t want to, but Wren kept pushing and pushing until Joyce finally gave in. ”

“Really?”

Louise nodded. “It’s probably not what you want to hear, but part of me thinks that the reason Joyce got so sick with Covid was because of the stress that Wren sometimes caused her.”

She paused, seeming to realize how she sounded. In the silence, I tried and failed to square this version with all that Wren had told me. I thought again about Oscar’s question: How well do you really know her?

“You and Joyce were close, I take it.”

“Very,” Louise said. “She took care of us, and we took care of her. While she was alive, we never had to worry. And I apologize for what I said about Wren, but you asked for the truth.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I should probably get started so I can finish before my appointment,” she said.

“I just have a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”

She looked at her watch and sighed. “Fine.”

“Did you notice whether Wren was having problems with anyone in particular before she died?”

“Why would you ask about that?” Louise frowned. “Her death was an accident.”

“I met Griffin yesterday,” I said, ignoring her question. “They were married, right?”

“Barely, and it didn’t last long. They were getting divorced.”

“He told me that they’d decided to get back together, and the divorce had been put on hold.”

“Not true,” she scoffed.

“You sound sure about that.”

“I am,” she said. “I know for a fact that the divorce was ongoing. Not long before Wren died, Griffin dumped her clothes on the property after covering them in paint, which should give you an idea about the state of their relationship. They definitely weren’t getting back together, no matter what Griffin says. ”

I took that in. “Did Wren ever mention any problems at the store?”

She raised her eyebrows, curious. “No,” she said. “Why?”

“How about Dax?”

She hesitated. “Did Wren tell you about these people?”

Instead of answering, I said, “I heard Dax came to the property one night and that the police were called.”

Louise let out a breath. “She told them that he was obsessed with her.”

“Was he?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Wren didn’t really confide in me about her love life.

Until that night, I’d assumed they were close.

He was here at the house a lot after she separated from Griffin.

I used to see them sitting on the porch in the evenings.

And then one night he shows up and Wren calls Reece in a panic, claiming that Dax was peeking in the windows.

I remember Reece sort of holding out the phone and looking at me with confusion while Wren was shouting on the other end, but I had no idea what was going on either.

” She made a skeptical face. “But yes, the police came out and Wren told them that Dax was stalking her. I don’t know what happened after that, but he never came around again. ”

“Thank you,” I said. “I guess that’s it.”

She lifted the basket and started toward the stairs before turning back to me.

“You said that Wren wants your help, but what do you think that means?”

I saw no reason to hide the truth. “I think she wants me to find out who was responsible for her death.”

Her eyes widened as she digested the implication. “You think someone killed her?”

“I do.”

“But the police already considered that possibility.”

“Do you know if they spoke with Griffin? Or Dax?”

“I mentioned both of them to the police,” she said before pausing. “Wait. Do you think one of them did it?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what really happened.”

“It was an accident,” she said, but it almost sounded like a plea.

“No,” I said slowly. “She was murdered, and I’m going to find out who did it.”

· · ·

Twenty minutes later, I met Oscar at the bakery, where he ordered a donut and cup of coffee to go.

“Didn’t you just have breakfast?”

“No,” he said. “I met Dugan at the station, and I’m starved. By the way, Lorena—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “Don’t tell her about the donut, right?”

“I don’t care about that,” he said. “What I was going to say was that Lorena went nuts over your drawing. She responded, and I quote, ‘I LOVE IT,’ all caps, with a bunch of exclamation points. She kept gushing over the stained-glass window detail on the front door, the columns on the porch, the slate steps, and even the exterior color. But you know what she really loved?”

“I have no idea.”

“The window boxes,” he said. “She said they made it look like a real home.”

“They were Wren’s idea.”

“What’s the latest with her?” he asked, adding a copious pour of cream to his coffee.

“I haven’t seen her since she told me what happened.”

He took a bite of his donut and chewed as he talked. “And I’ll say it again, like I did yesterday. I take it the two of you had an argument.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because she’s avoiding you,” he said matter-of-factly. “After a fight, it happens.”

“We didn’t argue.”

“But you did something you shouldn’t have, right?” When I didn’t answer, he laughed before adding, “I’m teasing. I’m just trying to ease your worries about her disappearing. She’ll show up again.”

Glum, I shoved my hands in my pockets on the way out, hoping he was right.

“I spoke to Louise this morning,” I said and filled him in.

His eyes reflected the same questions I’d had about the disparity between Wren’s account and Louise’s, but he made no comment.

Instead, he asked, “I’m sure you’re dying to know what Dugan had to say, right? ”

“You never told me how you knew him.”

“I made a financial donation to the police department right after I bought the property, enough to outfit the entire department with new protective vests. It’s important to be a good citizen, and you never know when a little goodwill might come in handy.

Like it did today, for instance. And, oh, he told me to tell you that he’s going to call you. ”

“Why?”

“I had to explain my interest in all this, and it was impossible to leave you out of it.”

“What did you say?”

“Mostly, I told him the truth. I said that you were staying at the house, and a woman showed up who told you that Wren had been murdered and talked to you about suspects.”

“And his response?”

“It sounded a little thin even to me, so I’m sure he feels the same way.

I tried to make this ‘mystery woman’ sound credible, but I’ll admit I was stretching.

” He made a wry face. “However, it was clear that he wasn’t pleased about my inquiries.

Obviously, he avoided most of the specifics about the investigation, but I did learn a couple of new things. ”

“Like?”