Page 51 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

Last night I dreamed of Wren.

We were walking on a beach near Heatherington on an overcast day, wintry air distilling our breath into cloudy puffs.

She wore a turtleneck sweater beneath a forest-green coat, her hands hidden deep in her pockets.

About a mile up the beach, I saw a carnival, complete with a slowly rotating Ferris wheel, and understood that we were making our way toward it.

The dream jumped forward, and we were riding the Ferris wheel. Wren sat beside me, our fingers intertwined. Cold wind blew over my face as we stared out at the slate-colored expanse of the ocean.

“Why did you bring me back to Heatherington, Tate?” she asked.

“Don’t you like it here?”

“I do, but we could have gone anywhere. You’re dreaming.”

“I am?”

She nodded, sweeping her wind-whipped hair out of her face. “We could be at a bistro in Paris or on a beach in the South Pacific, or on a safari watching lions, like Sylvia and Mike.” Her eyes lit up. “Or we could go somewhere else, and I could finally teach you to dance.”

“I’d go anywhere with you.”

The dream shifted again, and we were now on the beach behind my family’s home in the Hamptons.

It was a balmy summer night, and a full moon rode high in the sky.

The murmur of cocktail party conversation and the lively sounds of a swing band drifted over the dunes.

Wren stood before me in a strapless white dress that flared below the waist, reaching to just above her knees.

I wore white linen, and both of us were barefoot.

“Are you ready?” she asked, offering me her hand.

I took it, marveling at my first ever feel of her skin, as I slipped my arm around her lower back. I tugged gently, savoring the press of her body against mine. The cloud of her musky perfume enveloped us as we rotated in slow circles.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked.

She looked up at me with a contented smile.

“You’re doing it,” she answered. “We’re dancing.”

“I’m not doing anything special.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Fred Astaire does.”

“I don’t want you to be him,” she said. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be you.”

She leaned into me, resting her head on my chest, and we continued to sway. The song ended and another began, a romantic number in a minor key.

“Thank you for saving me, Tate,” she murmured.

“I could say the same thing to you.”

“Will you come and say goodbye?”

“I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“Please,” she said, raising her face to mine.

When I nodded, she kissed me tenderly on the lips.

· · ·

As my eyes opened, I struggled to make sense of my surroundings.

The dream continued to feel vivid and tangible; I could still smell Wren’s perfume and hear the melody that played as we danced.

Then I saw my bandaged knee in a brace, stretched out on an institutional white bed beneath fluorescent lights, and I remembered where I was.

I’d been in the hospital since Friday night. The doctors had diagnosed me with a severe concussion, and though I’d managed to avoid any intracranial hemorrhaging, the swelling had only yesterday begun to subside.

The prognosis for my knee was cloudier. Due to extensive swelling, it would be a week or two before scans could yield an accurate picture of the injuries.

But I’d already been in touch with an orthopedic surgeon at New York-Presbyterian, as well as my neurologist, and made appointments for a full workup as soon as I was home.

I got out of the bed and used nearby crutches to hobble to the bathroom. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I noted that I still looked like hell, covered in bruises and pale with bone-deep exhaustion. I thought again how lucky I was to have survived all that had happened.

When I left the bathroom, I was surprised to see Oscar sitting in the chair next to my bed.

“Hey, stranger,” he said with a grin.

“Hey, yourself,” I answered.

Though we’d been treated at the same hospital, I hadn’t seen Oscar since the night of the fire.

Lorena had told me that Oscar, too, had suffered a concussion and that his arm had been broken.

He now wore a brightly colored cast signed and decorated by his kids with drawings of the sun, rockets, and hearts.

He rose and offered me a one-armed hug, careful not to disturb my crutches.

“Have you been released?” I asked, scrutinizing him for further injuries.

“I got out yesterday,” he answered. “And I slept like a baby last night. They really need more comfortable beds in this place.”

I smiled. “How’s Paulie?”

“I knew that was going to be your next question,” he said with a smile.

“She’s fine. Lorena said that as soon as she got to the property and called for her, Paulie dashed out of the woods and jumped straight into the SUV.

I think she’s still a little wigged-out from spending the night outside.

Lorena said that every time she sits down, Paulie immediately hops into her lap. ”

“Poor Paulie. Tell Lorena thank you.”

“You’ll tell her later when you pick up your cat,” he said, waving it off. “Besides, she loves Paulie. I think she was more worried about her than about me.”

“I doubt it.”

“You didn’t see her expression when I asked her to find the little thing. She couldn’t get to the house fast enough. Fortunately, I hear you’re getting out of here today.”

“Three days is quite enough for me, thank you,” I said. “Are you going to stay in Chatham for a while?”

“No, we’re driving home tonight. I think I need a break from Heatherington, at least for a little while. We’ll be back when school’s finished, though. And you’ll be heading back to the city, I assume?”

“I have to.” I explained my upcoming doctors’ appointments, motioning him into the chair while I gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.

“All right,” he said, propping his cast on the armrest. “Catch me up. Chief Dugan gave me the official brief when he came to see me, but I want the real story.”

It took a while to relate everything that had happened on Friday evening. At times, the events felt surreal even to me. It was astonishing how Oscar and I had managed to embroil ourselves in such harrowing events.

“How did you know I was in trouble?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” he answered with a shrug. “I came to the house to tell you that I found Dax and Tessa at the festival. Like Nash and Griffin, they’d clearly been there for hours.”

“How did you find them?”

“I picked a spot where I could keep an eye on the bathrooms. They walked up twenty minutes after you left, almost like they’d been paged.”

Perhaps, I thought as I remembered the pulsing light over the festival, they had been.

“I can’t believe they were willing to talk to you.”

“I think Dax was terrified I was going to whip out the letter in front of the wife.” He smirked. “I assume Chief Dugan came to see you here as well?”

“He stopped by twice, actually.”

“And?”

I shrugged. “He was mainly interested in the events of Friday night, even though I couldn’t shed any light on how the fire started.

I’m just glad the officers showed up when they did.

Of course, he kept pressing, so I eventually told him almost everything.

Let’s just say he wasn’t amused by our ‘citizens’ investigation. ’ ”

“He scolded me, too,” Oscar admitted. “But when you say ‘almost everything,’ do you mean you told him about Wren?”

I gave a sheepish nod. “As predicted, he thinks I’m certifiable.”

“It is a little crazy.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Did he end up revealing anything about their investigation into the fire?”

“He’s still playing things close to the vest, but he’s fairly certain arson was involved. Dogs picked up traces of accelerant where the kitchen used to be, and they recovered an empty bottle of liquor. Reece also had alcohol on his clothing, so they suspect he started it.”

I thought of the cognac I’d purchased for the coq au vin.

“Does he know how I ended up by the sofa? The last thing I remember is tumbling down the stairs.”

“Either you somehow dragged yourself and don’t remember it, or Reece dragged you over there. Maybe he wasn’t sure whether the whole house would burn, but he wanted you in a spot he knew you wouldn’t survive.”

I nodded, realizing I would likely never know. “What about Louise?”

“Things aren’t looking good for her. Her bail has been set at an astronomical figure.”

“Because she had Wren’s locket?”

“Because she ran me down with the truck before going after you with a crowbar. Dugan said the prosecutor intends to charge her with attempted murder. I don’t know that they have enough evidence to charge her with Wren’s murder.”

“So she’ll get away with it?”

“She’ll end up in prison,” he said. “Even though Reece is dead, it’s clear by her actions on Friday that she and Reece were in it together.

Not only did you see him attack you after you left the bathroom only to have Louise try to finish the job, but Reece had injuries consistent with that iron you swung at him.

Most important, it turns out that both Reece and Louise had a very strong motive to eliminate Wren. ”

“What do you mean?”

“Aldrich came by my place in Chatham this morning.”

“And?”

“Apparently the trust documents governing the property were poorly drafted. As Wren told you, she was the primary beneficiary, and if nothing had happened to her, the house and property would have passed to her. Because she died before distribution, however, the trust required that the proceeds be split among the secondary beneficiaries, and that’s where the problem came in.

The property was supposed to be split among surviving family, the town, and the conservation trust. But the trust had failed to specify any percentages—hence the litigation.

Reece was the only remaining blood relative, and he was fighting for a bigger share.

Still, even if he only received a quarter or a third of the value of the property, it would have been millions. ”