Page 41 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

“I thought I saw something,” I answered.

She glanced away before her gaze drifted back to the drawing. “Is this the way she looks to you?” she asked, sounding weary.

Sometimes, but not always…

“It is,” I said.

Louise was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was so soft I could barely make it out. “I wish she still looked like this to me, but I’m never going to forget the way I found her.”

· · ·

Oscar arrived on schedule, and in the car, I reviewed with him the list of Griffin’s transgressions that Wren had compiled for her lawyer.

A few minutes later, we pulled into the festival’s dirt parking lot and wound our way between haphazardly parked trucks and vans of every size, looking for a place to park. Oscar opted for a spot off to the side, where the Escalade was unlikely to get dinged by other vehicles.

A banner that read Heatherington Live 2025—It’s All About the Music hung over the main gate.

Inside the fenced perimeter, makeshift stages were scattered throughout the grounds, surrounded by bleachers and plastic folding chairs.

Food and drink concessions dominated the center of the grounds, along with restroom facilities and huge white tents selling merchandise.

Everywhere I looked, roadies were unloading vans and pickup trucks or arranging speakers on stages, tech personnel were climbing scaffolding and hanging lights, and other workers were delivering concessions.

“Where are we supposed to meet him?” I asked Oscar, surveying the swarm of activity.

“He said that we should start in the office, but that he’d be running around all day,” Oscar answered. “He was plainly annoyed by my request, but eventually agreed to give us ten minutes if we could track him down.”

“That’s only because he still wants your money.”

“He’s not going to get it,” Oscar said. “The masks make me feel like I need to keep my hands on my wallet to keep from getting robbed.”

“That’s a little paranoid, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, well, if you ever see a man enter the bank wearing a Halloween mask, you might change your mind.”

Griffin wasn’t in the office, but an employee directed us to one of the stages, where a harried-looking guy with a clipboard pointed toward a nearby staff parking lot.

We finally located Griffin talking to what looked like several band members whose makeup, piercings, and tattoos made it difficult to determine their ages.

We waited on the periphery until Griffin signaled that he’d be with us soon.

Red-faced, he was exhorting the band members about some point, gesticulating emphatically while they looked on with obvious boredom.

When they slunk away, Griffin wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and approached us.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I was just explaining to them that they wouldn’t be able to set off the fireworks they’d planned. They wanted it to be part of the show, but there’s no way the fire marshal will allow that so close to the audience.”

“It looks like you still have a lot to do before tomorrow night,” Oscar observed.

“It’s always chaos toward the end,” he said. “No matter how many deadlines I set, the work always seems to happen at the last minute. But somehow, I manage to pull it off,” he said. “This year’s lineup is the best yet.”

“Will there be a band called Monkey Tears?” I asked.

“Not this year,” he said with a curious look. “Why? You a fan?”

I shrugged.

“They’re from Providence and were last here two years ago.

It was an all-female band, and they had a fan base among young women.

I invited them back last year, but they’d broken up and gone their separate ways by then.

It happens.” He looked from me to Oscar.

“As you can see, I’m beyond swamped today, so what can I do for you? ”

“We wanted to talk to you about someone you used to know.”

He cocked his head. “You told me it was urgent.”

“It is,” Oscar said.

“All right, fine. But I only have a few minutes. I’m supposed to be meeting the sound guys on Stage Five right now.”

“We won’t keep you,” Oscar said. “What can you tell us about your ex-wife?”

“You came here to talk to me about Wren?” Griffin’s face registered his disbelief.

“I’m curious as to why she left you,” I said.

“None of your business,” he snapped.

“I’m also curious as to why you lied to us about her wanting to get back together.”

“I didn’t lie…”

“Wren kept a record of your drug and alcohol abuse—as well as your violent episodes at home.” I watched as Griffin’s shock turned to fury, a flush creeping up his neck. “Tell me, Griffin—did you ever hit her, like you did Sandra Hall?”

Griffin whirled toward Oscar, his hands clenched. “Seriously, Oscar? You came here to pull this kind of stunt? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Her death came at the perfect time for you,” I added, “since you’re now claiming ownership of her property.”

“I’m not talking to you!” he shouted, before snarling at Oscar over his shoulder. “What the hell’s going on? Who is this guy?”

“Tate is a friend of Wren’s,” Oscar said. “And according to the police, you’re one of the prime suspects in her murder.”

“What police? The investigation’s over!”

Like Dax, he didn’t seem surprised by the word “murder.” “Not anymore,” Oscar stated. “New information has come to light.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not talking to this guy,” Griffin said, jerking his thumb at me. “And I’m not talking to you either.”

“The police will want to know your whereabouts on the night Wren was killed.”

“Where the hell do you think I was?” Griffin shouted, drawing glances from passersby. “I’m overseeing a thousand different things while the festival’s going on. I was here, there, everywhere!”

“And who can vouch for you between nine and midnight?” I asked.

“How should I remember that?” he demanded before breaking off.

He turned, looking as though he’d just figured out something important.

An ugly sneer spread across his face. “Oh, I get it. You’re working for those other attorneys, right?

And you’re trying to smear my reputation?

” He leaned toward me. “I’ll say it again: Wren begged me to take her back and I agreed to call off the divorce.

Which means half of that property is mine.

So get the hell out of here before I call some guys over to throw you out.

You’re trespassing, and believe me when I say I’ll press charges. So. Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. My. Face.”

He punctuated each word by stabbing his forefinger at me. I wished I could have gotten more from him, but at Oscar’s signal we turned to leave. I took a step before turning back around.

“If, as you say, you were in a lot of different places that night, that also means there’s no one who can vouch for you the whole time, is there?

You could have driven up to the house and killed her.

” I allowed myself a tight smile. “You had all the motive in the world, and soon, the whole town, and the police, are going to be thinking exactly the same thing.”

Griffin erupted and lunged toward me, spewing a string of curses, but Oscar was quicker and immediately put his hands up, keeping us separated. He then grabbed me and, before the situation could escalate, pushed me back toward the entrance.

We climbed into the Escalade, neither of us speaking until we reached downtown.

As he pulled into a parking space a few blocks off Pleasant Street, Oscar turned toward me and said the last thing I expected.

“We’re being followed.”

· · ·

We got out of the SUV and surveyed our surroundings. Up the block, I saw a blue car, double-parked. A stream of people passed through the intersection behind it, while musicians played on all four corners.

Oscar nodded toward the car. “I couldn’t make out the driver in the rearview mirror, but whoever that is followed us from your place to the fairground, then waited for us, and followed us again.”

“Who is it, do you think?” I asked, trying to get a better look.

“Could be Nash, since you pissed him off a couple days ago. Or Dax, since it’s clear he hates your guts, too. Or, of course, it could be one of their friends, some jacked-up dude who wears his keys on a chain and has a skull or a spider tattooed on his neck.”

“I didn’t get the sense that either Nash or Dax would have friends like that.”

“They might be murderers, but they can’t have dangerous friends?” Oscar scoffed. “By the way, have you even considered the possibility that any of the people we’ve talked to might have hired someone else to kill Wren?”

“Why didn’t you suggest that idea earlier?”

“Because I just thought of it!” Oscar answered, throwing up his hands. “It’s not every day that I play cold case investigator!”

The small foreign hatchback idling down the block didn’t strike me as the kind of car that someone dangerous might drive, but what did I know?

“What do you want to do? Get back in the Escalade?”

“No. I really don’t want whoever it is to follow me back to my place. They know how to find you but not me, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I doubt we’re in any danger here, though. Too many witnesses. I think we need to see who it is and what he wants.”

Because Oscar had better streetwise instincts than I did, I nodded and reluctantly followed along.

Nonetheless, my stomach flip-flopped as we approached the car.

Just as we drew parallel, the driver’s side door swung open.

A high-heeled boot stepped out, and I realized with surprise that it was a woman.

Like Wren, she had dark hair and green eyes, though she was shorter.

“I’m Tessa,” the woman said, closing the door behind her. She glared at each of us in turn. “My husband told me you’re trying to dredge up the past.”

Dax’s wife.

“We’re looking into Wren’s death—” I began.

“Why?” she interrupted, putting her hands on her hips. “It was an accident.”

“It wasn’t,” I said.

“Yeah, well, even if she was killed by someone, she deserved it. The world’s a better place without her.”

I fell silent, noting Oscar’s shocked expression as well. Tessa smirked, as though proud that her remark had had its intended effect.

“You know what she did, right?” she demanded.

“We know that she confided in your husband about her problems with Griffin.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Is that what you’re claiming she told you?

” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Dax told me all about your little meeting, but unlike my husband, I think you’re lying about knowing Wren.

Wren never mentioned you to Dax, and she would have.

It would have been part of the whole woe-is-me web of lies that she’d been weaving ever since she was a little girl.

And trust me, I should know, because Wren and I used to be friends.

But I really don’t care about your little crusade.

What I do care about is the way you threatened my husband and our marriage. ”

I wondered whether Dax had told her about the letter but doubted it. “We’re just trying to find out what really happened,” I said in a level voice.

“What happened was that Wren made a pass at my husband,” she said, color rising in her cheeks.

“She called him, sobbing, and he went to her house. But, of course when he got there, she’d been drinking and was all over him, claiming that he was ‘the only man who really cared’ about her.

Then she kissed him. He pushed her away, because he didn’t want to take advantage of her, and because he loves me.

But the rejection pissed her off, so the next time he went over, she called the police and made up some sick story about him being obsessed with her. ”

The letter in my pocket almost seemed to be vibrating, though I knew it was my imagination.

I tried to keep my voice matter-of-fact. “Obviously, your version of events differs from what I know to be true.”

“You don’t know anything about Wren,” she hissed, eyes glowing with rage. “If you did, you’d know this wasn’t the first time she went after someone who was already in a relationship. There was a reason people around here didn’t like her.”

My mind flashed to what Wren had told me about Brian and Tessa, but I kept my expression steady.

“Did you know that Griffin is seeing a woman named Sandra Hall?” she asked, jutting out her chin.

“Yes.”

“Did you know they were engaged before Wren set her sights on Griffin?”

This time, I couldn’t hide my surprise, and she pounced, her tone almost victorious.

“Oh, I guess no one told you that, huh? Yeah, Sandra and Griffin were engaged when Wren fixated on him. She’d known Sandra as long as she’d known me.

She met with Griffin on the sly, flirting and sneaking around with him at night, even giving him a copy of the key to her house.

And sure enough, Griffin fell head over heels for her, and he dumped Sandra.

Eventually Griffin was dumb enough to put a ring on her finger, but as soon as the chase was over, she got bored. ”

“Look—” I started, a little thrown and offended by the picture she was painting of Wren.

Her mouth curled into a snarl as she interrupted me.

“That’s when she went after my husband! Because that’s what she did!

If she needed counseling, she could have talked to Rene Joblin at the Mercy Center, but she didn’t!

She could have spoken to Leslie Sloan, another psychologist here in town.

Hell, she could have talked to Ethel Lampier in the park, but she didn’t do that either!

Instead, she chose Dax because he was married.

She got off by manipulating men in relationships into falling for her! ”

Her gaze ricocheted between Oscar and me, daring us to contradict her, but we remained silent.

“If you really were a friend of Wren’s, you would know she was a sociopath.”

She turned and got back into her car without a second glance. We watched in silence as the engine roared to life and Tessa made a quick U-turn, back toward Pleasant Street. At the corner, she turned and accelerated, her car disappearing.