Page 35 of Remy

“Did you call the cops?” he asks.

I shake my head, still trying to rid myself of the painful memories.

“It’s okay.” He adopts the demeanor of a hostage negotiator, all feigned patience and concern. “You can tell me the truth. Did you speak to the cops or not? Have you called anyone?”

I want to laugh. To scream. To disembowel.

Instead, I mutter, “The truth would’ve been nice six months ago.”

He flinches. It’s only slight, or maybe I imagine it, wishing it into existence as he stops in front of me to lower to his haunches. “Who’s calling you in the middle of the night, Ollie?”

I glance at the cell screen, alight with a number I don’t recognize, the device still vibrating.

“Answer it,” he says. “Put it on speaker.”

I want to comply. Connecting with someone outside of this hellscape is exactly what I need. A lifeline. A way out. But my brain is too sluggish and my hands to heavy.

Remy reaches for me. I flinch.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He glares as he swipes at my cell screen, connecting the call.

Silence follows.

“Hello?” an unfamiliar woman finally says. “Is anyone there?”

Remy nudges my leg, prompting me to talk.

“Hi,” I croak. “Yes. Hello.”

“Is this Olivia Pelosi?” she asks.

I nod, still so incredibly numb, the flames continuing to billow behind me. “Yes. Who’s calling?”

The woman clears her throat. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but my name is Pearl Scott. I’m calling from The Johns Hopkins Hospital. Your father has just been admitted after arriving in the ER roughly twelve hours ago. He’s got you listed as his emergency contact.”

My shocked gaze turns to Remy, my feelings quickly vaulting from devastation to anger.

Did he do this?

“What happened?” I ask.

“I’m sorry; I don’t have the full details. I’m only admin staff. All I can tell you is that he’s currently in a stable condition, but due to the circumstances, you’ve been cleared to visit now if you’d like.”

I push to shaky feet, using the cremator as leverage. “Umm… okay… Thank you…”

“You’re welcome. And again, I’m sorry to have woken you at this hour with unfavorable news. I wish your father all the best.”

The line disconnects, leaving me with a million questions.

I stare at Remy, trying to interpret his expression. To find any hidden guilt. “Did you have my dad?—”

“No.” He snatches the cell from my hand. “Your father is an asset. My people aren’t responsible for this.”

My people?

He sounds like the leader of a guerilla warfare group. But he also doesn’t seem surprised about the hospitalization.

I square my shoulders, attempting to portray tenacity. “If you’re lying…”

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