All That Remains

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Oh, what would it hurt if she looked? As long as Alec didn’t catch her?

  Wren scrambled to her feet, leaving the piles she’d created where they lay, and hurried into his bedroom. The relatively new-looking album was on the shelf in his closet. Maybe it would turn out to hold more old family photographs, but he had said his great-aunt Pearl had kept his and Sally’s school pictures, and Wren couldn’t imagine that his mother hadn’t also kept pictures of Alec’s and Sally’s kids.

  Standing on tiptoe, she took the album down and lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the floor. Feeling even more guilty, she opened it to the end rather than the beginning. The last few pages were as yet unused. She kept turning back until—

  Maribeth’s school picture was darling. She was a lovely girl with vivid eyes and a bright smile. Beside it, Amanda’s showed a pudgy girl with hair that hadn’t wanted to stay in the pigtails her mother had undoubtedly braided so carefully that morning.

  Wren flipped the page back, and quit breathing. The collage of photos could only be of Alec’s two little girls. They were so beautiful; both had his eyes and his dark hair. The older girl laughed in one picture, her arms flung out with dizzying confidence. Her younger sister’s smile was shyer; Wren had the sense that she looked at the world with more trepidation. Wren pressed her hand to her chest as though she had heartburn. Oh, Alec.

  Slowly she worked her way through more pictures of Sally’s family that included glimpses of Alec’s mother, and then, finally, there was his family. All of them together in a posed photo that might have been taken for Christmas. He wore a dark, formal suit, white shirt and red tie, his wife had on an elegant, form-fitting black dress and both girls were clearly delighted by their red velvet dresses, the bows in their hair, the lacy white socks and patent-leather shoes. Wren stared and stared at that photo, her gaze going from face to face. She felt horribly guilty, as if she’d sneaked into someone’s house to go through their things, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  His wife was a stunning woman with hair the color of honey and eyes as blue as his. She was tall, long-legged and curvy. Her makeup was perfect, her smile serene and her ears didn’t stick out.

  Wren wanted to cry. She should be jealous; probably she was. But mostly she was sad for Alec. Neither he nor Carlene had been happy in their marriage by the time the family had sat for this photograph. Sexy, handsome man, poised, beautiful woman, a darling pair of girls. The perfect family. Yet the illusion was soon to be shattered.

  No wonder he didn’t keep this photo framed at his bedside. It must hurt terribly to look at.

  She heard the engine of a vehicle outside and tilted her head to listen. Was it passing? Or—

  With a gasp she closed the album, leaped to her feet and shoved it on the shelf. She had barely made it across the hall into the other bedroom when the key scraped in the lock. Oh, dear heavens. What if he’d caught her being so unforgivably nosy?

  Then her heart took an uncomfortable bump. What was he doing home so early?

  It was him, wasn’t it?

  She tiptoed to the bedroom doorway and poked her head out. She couldn’t see downstairs from here.

  “Wren?” he called.

  She closed her eyes for a moment in relief and guilt and probably a hundred other emotions then hurried to the head of the staircase. “Alec? Why are you home so early?”

  He looked up, his face somber. His expression was enough to make her heart bounce over a couple more speed bumps, neither of which slowed her pulse.

  “Alec?”

  “Is Abby asleep?”

  Wren nodded.

  “Can you come down? I want to talk to you.”

  She had a death grip on the banister. It took her a moment to pry her fingers loose, and start down. His eyes never left her face. Two steps up from him, she stopped.

  “Alec?” She couldn’t seem to say anything else. Not even something sensible like, What is it? Why are you looking like that?

  “James’s rental car was found today in the river.” He spoke quietly, even gently. “From what I’m told, it wasn’t more than a mile or two from where you had to abandon yours.”

  He had been that close behind her? No, Wren thought, hadn’t that police officer in Seattle said he’d disappeared the day after she fled? So, he hadn’t literally been right behind her.

  “Was he in the car?” she asked, her voice almost steady.

  He shook his head. “He’d gone off the road, though, and the car likely rolled several times before it went in the river.” He seemed to hesitate. “The chances are good he’s dead.”

  It was very strange to realize she couldn’t quite decide how she felt about that. There was relief, a breath away. But she was unexpectedly shocked, as well. And…upset?

  “I should have considered this possibility before,” he said, sounding grim, “but I’m now wondering whether James isn’t one of the two unidentified bodies we’re holding in the morgue.”

  “But you saw his picture. I mean, I know it wasn’t very good—”

  “It was worse than not very good. And—” He paused, obviously uncomfortable with what he had to say. “Both of these bodies were battered in the river. They’d been in the water a while, too.”

  Okay, now she felt a little bit queasy, even though she didn’t consider herself squeamish.

  “Wren, we can wait for fingerprints. Or you can see if you can identify him. I’m going to leave the decision to you. You don’t have to actually view the bodies. We can have you look at some photos.”

  “No. If it’s him, I want to see him. I need to see him and know—” She stopped. “Just, um, let me put some shoes on and— We’ll have to take Abby, won’t we?”

  “Why don’t we drop her at Sally’s? I know she won’t mind. You might need a few minutes after…”

  After she looked closely at the faces of two very dead men who might be perfect strangers. Yes, she might indeed need a few minutes.

  She could stay calm. She’d survived giving birth in unbelievably primitive circumstances with a man she hadn’t known kneeling between her legs. This couldn’t possibly compare to that.

  Alec waited while she put on socks, the gardening clogs and a heavy canvas coat that had belonged to his mother, then bundled Abby against the cold and collected a few necessities for her.

  Alec escorted her with a reassuring hand on her elbow. She could feel his worried glances as he drove the half mile to his sister’s house, which was small and shabby. He parked and was the one to unbuckle the car seat and carry Abby in to Sally’s house.

  “Of course I don’t mind watching her,” she assured them. But then she stared. “You’re going to what? Girls,” she snapped, her parental antennae having quivered, “please go into the living room.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Wren smiled. “Thank you for helping.”

  Alec didn’t let Sally have time to undermine Wren’s resolve. He hurried her out and they drove in silence to the hospital. As they walked the short distance across the parking lot, several people called greetings to Alec.

  “We’ve given ourselves away,” she said. “If this isn’t him…”

  Alec didn’t have to say anything. He thought one of the bodies was James.

  What will I feel if it is? she wondered.

  The pathologist wasn’t there. An attendant was available to usher them into the morgue and pull out one huge stainless-steel drawer at a time. It was chilly in here; of course it would have to be, to prevent the bodies decomposing. By this time, Alec’s arm had come around Wren and he held her close. She felt mostly numb, but his warmth soaked into her.

  The body was draped with a green cloth that looked like the same fabric surgical scrubs were made out of.

  “At a bigger hospital, you’d be shown a video feed,” Alec said. “I’m sorry that isn’t available here, Wren. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather start with photos?”

  “I’m all right,” she said, unsure whether she meant it or not. She held
herself rigidly and waited.

  With a practiced flick, the attendant folded back the sheet enough to reveal a man’s face. Wren’s breath hitched. His color was…horrible, like spoiled milk. There were obvious contusions. She stared blankly, thinking, Oh, God, no wonder Alec couldn’t be sure. What if this was James and she didn’t recognize him?

  “Is— Is this the man who was shot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” She gulped and stared.

  Alec’s arm tightened. “You’re breathing too fast,” he murmured. “Relax. Take your time. Look at the hair-line, the way his ears lie, his nose, the ridge of his eyebrow. Focus on details.”

  Yes. She closed her eyes for a moment then opened them again. She could do this.

  After looking carefully for a minute, she shook her head. “No. It’s not James.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. This face is broader. The nose is too flat across the bridge. And see how large his earlobes are?”

  “All right.” Alec nodded at the attendant, who recovered the face and slid the drawer silently into place.

  They moved a few steps. He pulled out the next. An identical green drape covered this body, as well.

  The moment he folded it back, Wren knew. A sound burst from her.

  “Take your time,” Alec said again, his voice unbelievably kind.

  She was sure, but she looked carefully anyway. She knew his nose, the angle of his cheekbones, his mouth. She would never in a million years have imagined him looking like this, but… “Oh, his poor mother,” she whispered.

  Though he appeared utterly focused on her, Alec somehow signaled the attendant and the drape was whisked over the face. Even before the drawer closed, Alec urged her out of the room.

  “He’s dead.” That was a truly dumb thing to say, especially since James looked really dead, no embalmer’s art giving his face a semblance of life. “I’ve never seen anyone dead before,” she said, her voice too high.

  “You did great, Wren.” Alec kept her moving, into the elevator that rose from the basement, through the hospital lobby and out into the chilly winter air of the parking lot. “It’s normal to be shaken by seeing a body. Especially when it’s someone you knew.”

  “I don’t know if I did,” she said. “He was never who I thought he was. He represented something. I let myself be fooled.”

  They’d made it to Alec’s black SUV. He opened the passenger door, but instead of bundling her into the seat he gently turned her and drew her against him. They were shielded by the bulk of the vehicle and the open door as well as the pickup parked in the next spot. For this moment they were in their own small world, utterly alone. She leaned against him, closed her eyes and breathed in the scent that was distinctly Alec. He was talking quietly, but she didn’t even try to take in the words, only let his low, kind rumble join the comfort of his strong arms and the big hands moving in soothing circles on her back and shoulders.

  “He’s dead,” she mumbled against his down vest.

  “Yes. You’re safe. He can never hurt you again.”

  She wondered why she wasn’t crying. Shouldn’t she be? It wasn’t as though she was happy that James had been killed, although maybe eventually she would be. What she’d done had been surprisingly traumatic. And yet anticlimactic, too. These past few weeks, she’d imagined a thousand times a confrontation with James, scripted what he’d say and do, what she’d say and do. Girded herself to be strong. Now she didn’t have to be. He’d cheated her of the chance to stand up to him—to know that she could.

  Most of all, though, she felt shell-shocked.

  “How are you doing?” Alec asked.

  “I—I think I’m okay.” Wren thought about it and decided she really was. Summoning her dignity, she drew away. “Do I have to go to the police station with you, or can we go home?”

  He smiled, although his eyes were watchful. “We’ll pick up Abby and go home.”

  She nodded and got in the SUV with only a small boost from him. She’d already buckled herself in by the time he got in on his side.

  Once again they drove in silence. On the way, she had been oblivious to her surroundings, but now she looked around and saw how awful the town looked. But amid the mess were signs of healing—piles of fresh lumber, work happening on half the buildings they passed, people shoveling the icky-looking sludge into wheelbarrows and Dumpsters.

  “Do they do this every time it floods?” she asked.

  His gaze flicked her way. “This was what’s called a hundred-year flood. One this bad hasn’t happened in any of these people’s lifetimes. The folks along the river do get flooded on a regular basis. You’d think they’d give up, but—” He shrugged.

  “Is there anything I have to do? About James, I mean?”

  “No. We’ll confirm your identity with fingerprints. If you know his mother’s name and hometown, that would help speed things along. She could start making arrangements.”

  “We don’t have to tell her what he was doing here, do we?”

  Even without turning her head, she could feel him looking at her. “That’s up to you. We can leave you out of it completely. It’ll be a mystery to her why he was in Arkansas.”

  “That’s what I’d like to do. There’s no reason now for her to know what a creep her son was.” She was quiet a moment, not moving even though Alec had pulled to the curb in front of Sally’s house. “I know they say you love your own kids no matter what, but I wonder if she might not be a little bit relieved, too.”

  Alec set the emergency brake and turned off the engine, then shifted in his seat so he was facing her, one arm draped over the steering wheel. “You said he wasn’t very nice to her.”

  “No. He was pretty awful when he talked to her.”

  “Was James her only child?”

  Wren nodded. “I do feel sorry for her.”

  Alec gave one of those smiles that invariably made her heart somersault. Warm, tender, intimate. “You have a kind heart, Wren Fraser. James was the biggest idiot on earth.”

  Her sinuses burned and, even as she mumbled, “Thank you,” she fumbled for the seat-belt release. He meant well, she told herself. And she valued kindness. She did. She’d thought often enough that he was kind. But right this minute, she ached for more. For him to be unhappy that her identification of James meant there was no more reason for her to stay in Saddler’s Mill.

  Scrambling out of the Tahoe, she thought fiercely, I will not cry. I won’t. She owed Alec so much, and she wouldn’t repay him by clinging. Think how lucky she was—not only was her baby healthy and darling, but there also wasn’t even a whopping big hospital bill for the birth. She’d escaped James and never had to worry about him again. She could think about whether she wanted to tell his mother that she had a granddaughter. Molly would be excited to hear that she was coming, and she would get to be there when Molly’s baby was born.

  Considering the desperation she’d felt when she fled Seattle—never mind when she’d battled to escape the car she’d driven into the flood-swollen river—life was good now. Really, really good.

  She wouldn’t let herself think about how, once she left, the odds were she would never see Alec again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE AFTERNOON WAS advanced enough that Alec chose not to return to work. Instead, once they were inside he excused himself to go upstairs. When he came down a minute later, he’d changed into jeans and a sweater and no longer wore the holstered weapon or badge at his belt.

  His assessing glance was sharp enough to be a weapon. “You haven’t moved,” he said.

  He was right. She hadn’t. She stood in the entry hall holding Abby, both of them still bundled against the cold, and the past couple of minutes were a complete blank. Abby was beginning to fuss, which meant… She was hungry or cold or hot or wet or something. For the very first time since she’d been born, Wren felt incapable of determining what that something was.

  “Will you take her?” She thrust
Abby at Alec. “I need— I need—” His reluctance was obvious but for once she couldn’t honor it. “I’m sorry.” The moment he accepted Abby from her, Wren bolted for the stairs. She knew he was staring in astonishment as she fled.

  She shut herself in her borrowed room then sat on the edge of the bed. She was shaking. Why was she shaking? She hadn’t lied when she told Alec she was all right. Why would she suddenly fall apart now?

  There was a rap on the door. “Wren? Are you okay?”

  She hugged herself, swallowed and said, “Yes. I need a few minutes. Please.” The last came out as a whisper, but she suspected he heard her anyway because he went away.

  She didn’t cry, or even feel like crying. All she did was indulge in a teeth-rattling panic attack and try to figure out what was wrong.

  Nothing was her eventual diagnosis. Somehow her life had gone terribly askew, and she didn’t know how to fix it. It wasn’t James anymore, although seeing him…

  Don’t think about that.

  It was Abby and Alec and Molly and Mom and…

  Gradually she became calmer. She knew what her choices were now, and Alec wasn’t one of them. She could go visit Molly or she could stick a pin in the map and set out to build a new life in a strange place where she knew no one. Being near her mother—not an option.

  Of course she wanted to see Molly. She’d been dreaming of that for months.

  So, buy airline ticket. Thank goodness she had the money, although if she were to buy it online she would have to ask Alec to put it on his credit or debit card, and she’d give him the cash in payment. No reason he’d mind.

  A glance at the clock told her it had taken her only a few minutes to overcome the unpleasant attack of doubt and fears. So that was good. She’d be fine.

  To prove how fine, she went downstairs. It wasn’t fair to leave Alec in charge of Abby when he so obviously didn’t want to be.

  She found them in the kitchen. Alec sat facing the bassinet, which hadn’t been moved from its usual corner on the other side of the table. He didn’t look very happy. In profile, his expression was, if not grim, at least bleak. She would have been willing to bet he’d put Abby down the second Wren was out of sight. Now he was dreading the possibility that she might start crying and he would have to do something.