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“Why am I here? I need to get to Remi.” I attempt to sit up.
She gently holds me in place. “They’re not allowing any visitors until tomorrow. Another seizure could be devastating for him.” Vicky wraps a cuff around my arm and takes my blood pressure. “One twenty-seven over ninety. It’s a little high, but I’d expect it considering what you’re going through.” She pats my shoulder. “You’re here for some privacy, and there are a couple of officers here to talk to you.”
“Oh.” I tamp down my panic over needing to see that Remi is okay with my own eyes.
Vicky gives me a watery smile. “Stay positive, love. I’ve seen patients worse off, and they pull through. Remi’s youth puts the odds in his favor.”
Nurse Vicky’s reassurance adds to my feeble hope, making it stronger. Not as strong as before the dream, but not completely debilitated either.
When she leaves the room, Officer Taylor and Detective Gracyk enter. “Ms. Keller, we’re sorry to bother you at a time like this, but we need to ask you a few questions.”
“Is this about Mr. Fairchild?” I can’t keep the disgust out of my tone. “Because I want to file a restraining order.”
The women look at each other in confusion before turning back to me.
“That’s not why we’re here, though it’s something we can discuss,” Officer Taylor says.
Gracyk pulls out a notepad. “Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Remington Arison?”
The question is shocking. “Absolutely not. He’s the most genuine person you’d ever meet. I can’t imagine…” After witnessing Mr. Fairchild’s utter lack of humanity, I guess I can.
“Ms. Keller, if you have someone in mind, please speak up,” Taylor urges.
“Mr. Fairchild. He said he saw this as an opportunity to bring his son back to Los Angeles.” I spit out the words, desperate to cleanse my mouth of them.
The detective is taking notes as the officer speaks a code into the radio on her shoulder.
“One more question, Ms. Keller,” Detective Gracyk says. “Does he know a Laurel Smith?”
My brows knit together. The name nags at the back of my mind, but I can’t place it. “I’m not sure. He’s never mentioned anyone by that name.” I scrape my fingers through my hair. “You might want to ask Kiara or Granada—they are close family.”
“We have, and they couldn’t identify her either,” Gracyk explains. “We’re classifying this as attempted murder. Witnesses say that the car was aiming to hurt someone. We looked up the license plate, but it was a rental. The rental agency gave us the driver’s information, which looks pretty generic. We’re not sure if Laurel Smith is an alias.”
“We do have video surveillance, and we’re waiting for forensics to identify the face of the driver.” Officer Taylor hands me her card. “We’ll be in touch.”
I’m rooted in shock as they leave. Who on earth would want to hurt Remi? Even if his father wanted his son back in California, would he really have him almost fatally wounded? It doesn’t make sense.
It’s then I remember all those times I felt like I was being watched. Maybe it wasn’t about me at all. Each time, Remi was either with me or showed up right after, like when Isabel and I were at the fair. Maybe his father had hired someone to investigate Remi and it was a job gone wrong. So many things just don’t add up.
Sitting here doing nothing makes me anxious, so I head to the waiting room to see if there is any news about Remi’s condition. Kiara is pacing outside of her brother’s room. From her creased forehead to her stooped posture, worry etches all over her demeanor.
Anxiety forms a thorny ball, lodging in my chest. “Any news?” I ask, approaching her.
The question startles her. “Oh, um… They stabilized him, but they don’t want him to have any stimulation for twenty-four hours.” Throwing herself in a seat, she buries her head in her hands. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this, Mae,” she says on a quiet sob. “I’m responsible for him. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Her shoulders shake with the weight of the world setting upon them.
“Hey, he’s going to get better.” I pull her hands from her face. “You told me yourself, he’s a fighter. Whatever happens, I’m here too.”
“Thank you,” she sniffs. “I know he will, it’s just…” Kiara zones out, looking as if she’s trying to solve a quantum mechanics equation.
“What is it?”
“While we have medical insurance for our employees, it’s only going to cover a small portion of Remi’s hospital stay. Not to mention the physical therapy he’ll need when he wakes up.” Kiara catches my stare. “Because he will wake up.” She shakes her head. “I can probably mortgage the house.” Her cheeks blow out. “Maybe sell a kidney.”
Even though I know the answer, I ask anyway. “Your parents won’t cover their son’s medical costs?”
She recoils, and her lip curls. “Sure, my parents would pay for it all but then demand my brother move back to Los Angeles and become a fucking plastic surgeon.” Her left eye twitches. “I’ll not have him survive this so he can die a slow death under my father’s control.”
“Remi mentioned he had a brother. Have you talked to him?”
