Angels in Pink: Holly's Story (Lurlene McDaniel (Mass Market)) (5 page)

eight

HOLLY FROZE.
This was Shy Boy?
He wasn’t at all what she’d expected.

“Hello, Chad,” Mike Harrison said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Holly was speechless and also embarrassed. This wasn’t at all how she’d envisioned—a hundred times over—meeting him.

“I—um—I would like to talk to you, sir. I’d like to apologize for getting Holly in trouble. I’d like to explain myself.”

Holly could feel her father’s displeasure but was heartened when he said, “Yes. Holly’s mother and I would like to hear what’s been going on.”

For the first time, Holly realized that they had not trusted her explanation of an innocent e-mail flirtation. Her face felt hot with color. She stepped aside, and Chad followed her and her father into the living room, where Chad was introduced to her mother. Evelyn nodded politely, but Holly could see by her parents’ expressions that Chad had a whole lot of persuading to do if he was ever going to win over the Doubtful Duo.

Chad sat on the edge of an overstuffed chair across from the sofa where her parents settled. She felt like excess baggage but eventually took the chair at her father’s desk. Chad licked his lips, stared down at his hands clasped on his knees. He looked up. “I’m really sorry about making trouble for Holly. I never meant to do that.”

No one said anything.

Chad continued. “I had no idea of the trouble she was in until Hunter e-mailed me. He told me he was her brother before he lit into me.”

Her parents looked over at Holly. “I asked him to,” Holly said boldly. “So don’t get mad at him.”

“I know the way I’ve handled our friendship is crazy,” Chad said, turning attention back on himself. “But even though we’ve only ever e-mailed each other, I’ve really grown to like her. A lot.”

Holly felt her cheeks grow warm again.

“Why did you pick Holly?” Mike asked. “Do you go to the same high school?”

“No. I—um—I’m homeschooled. I live over in Tarpon Springs.” That was a beautiful Greek fishing village about forty miles from Tampa, on the Gulf of Mexico. Holly had been there years before, visiting with her family. She remembered watching from a glass-bottom boat as divers harvested sponges. “I have seen her around the hospital when she helps on the kid floors.”

Now Holly was baffled. She had never seen Chad.

“Are you a volunteer at the hospital too?” Evelyn asked.

“Not exactly.” Chad shook his mane of curly hair, as if clearing his head. “Let me back up. I got hold of her e-mail address at the hospital. It was an accident; no one gave it to me. Someone named Kathleen e-mailed Holly some stuff from the medical library last year, and I just happened to see the address when I was doing some research at the same terminal.”

“I did a report for biology, and Kathleen e-mailed me some articles,” Holly explained. “She was assigned to the medical library then.”

“I already wanted to know her better but didn’t know how to approach her, so I just started e-mailing.”

“Seems devious,” Mike said.

“There were large time gaps between your e-mails,” Evelyn said. “Why was that?”

Holly squirmed because now he knew that her parents had read
every
word of their exchanges, yet she was glad her mother had asked the question. Holly burned to know the answer. This whole scene could have been avoided if he’d only met with her ages ago.

“Everybody uses the computer at my house. No privacy.”

“Why was privacy necessary?”

Chad looked miserable. “I didn’t want her to know everything there is to know about me.”

That’s honest,
Holly thought.
But scary.

“Sounds strange,” Mike said. “What are you hiding?”

Chad took a deep breath. “I—um—I have CF, cystic fibrosis. That’s why I go to the hospital so much. It’s a lousy disease. All my life, I’ve wanted to be normal. I’ve wanted a normal girl to
like
me. A pretty girl.” He cut his eyes to Holly. “Pretty like Holly. Someone who won’t be turned off or freaked out by coughing and respiratory therapy and all the medical stuff that goes along with CF. I had hoped that Holly would like me through my e-mails enough to not be grossed out when she met the real me.

“Instead I got her into a ton of trouble, and so I’ve probably made her hate me instead. I’m sorry, Holly. Very, very sorry.”

“The summer has passed so quickly,” Carson’s mother, Teresa, told Kathleen in her lilting Spanish accent. They were standing in the magnificent kitchen washing vegetables for the cook-out that Dr. Kiefer was setting up on the back patio. Carson was outside with his father.

“I guess this is the last picnic of the summer,” Kathleen said. It was the Saturday before Labor Day, and the Kiefers were having a few couples over for dinner. Carson had asked Kathleen to come so he wouldn’t be stuck in a crowd of boring adults. He’d said, “We’ll watch some movies, maybe get in some lip-lock time.” Of course she’d agreed.

“Yes, Christopher and I are on call on Monday, so we had to move our party up. We’re very glad you could come.”

“Me too.” Kathleen thought back to the previous Labor Day, when Stephanie had shown up uninvited, and she hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat appearance.

“So you’ve been in school a week. How is it going?”

“There’s a ton of freshmen and everybody looks lost. Cummings is huge. Carson says Bryce Academy is a whole lot smaller. The difference between public and private, I guess.”

“That and a wheelbarrow full of money,” Teresa said with a laugh. “I must tell you something.”

Kathleen braced herself.

“You have been good for our son, Kathleen.”

The compliment took Kathleen by surprise. “You think so?”

“Do not be modest. It is true. Carson has always been, how shall I say? Not totally manageable. Since the two of you have been dating, he is less wild. More centered. I give you credit for that.”

The flattery made Kathleen blush deeply. “H-he’s kind to me.”

“Ah, this is good to know. Kindness is a good trait. I would not put up with anyone who was not kind to me.” Teresa glanced out the window, let her gaze rest on her husband and smiled. “Like father, like son.” She turned back to Kathleen. “What do you think of Carson’s idea to become an EMT?”

Kathleen’s stomach tightened. She wasn’t prepared for this conversation. Choosing her answer carefully, she said, “I think he’d be very good at it. He’s good with people. He likes the excitement it would bring. And the variety. He’s dedicated too. Plus I think he likes medicine more than he lets on. Yes, he’d make a wonderful EMT.”

Teresa tipped her head, studied Kathleen for a moment. “This is what I have told his father. A child should be encouraged to follow a dream. This is why I am a doctor, because it was something I had always wanted. My family let me believe I could do it, although we had little money to send a girl to university. Carson should be able to do as he wishes. He is young and he can experiment until he finds the right fit.”

“He told me his dad backed off on forcing him to take some of his college prep classes this year.”

“Yes.” Teresa’s eyes twinkled. “I checked into what courses were absolutely necessary for him to graduate, enter community college and be acceptable for the EMT program. Then I suggested a senior year schedule to both Carson and Chris that was agreeable.”

The confession proved to Kathleen what she’d already surmised—that Carson’s easy charm had been given to him with his mother’s DNA.

“Where’s your brother?” Holly’s father asked as he walked into the kitchen, adjusting his necktie.

Holly, sitting at the kitchen table, had her nose buried in the Sunday comics as she answered. “He got a call from his boss, who said the morning guy was sick and couldn’t open the restaurant, and would Hunter please open and let the cooks in, and he’d take over as soon as he could.”

“Hunter said Friday was his last day on the job.” Mike sounded irritated. Attendance at Sunday morning’s family breakfast before church was mandatory.

Evelyn placed a fresh stack of pancakes on her husband’s plate. “Just eat, hon. Hunter will join us as soon as he can, I’m sure.”

Hunter was leaving for college on Tuesday, and no one was looking forward to his going. Mike was taking off from work to drive him to Indiana. Holly itched for the day when she would leave for college and personal freedom. She had to admit, though, that Shy Boy’s visit and conversation with them had helped her situation a little. No one had spoken after he’d dropped the bombshell about his health. He’d spent days, even weeks at a time in the teen wing of Parker-Sloan, and she had never noticed him. She felt bad about it.

When Chad had left the house, he’d asked Holly’s father for permission to call her and maybe e-mail her again too. Mike had said, “All right, but give it a couple of weeks.”

This had shocked Holly, because she hadn’t thought she’d have any privileges until Christmas. The downside for her was that she wasn’t sure she wanted Chad to call or write her at all. He just wasn’t what she’d hoped for all the months she’d been fantasizing about him. Just her luck—a guy finally liked her and he was sick with a terrible disease. She had read up on CF and knew it wasn’t a pretty thing. CF patients had a malfunctioning pancreas that prevented food from being properly digested, and their lungs were clogged with thick secretions of mucus that had to be removed through special respiratory manipulations.
Ugh.
Chad had been correct— CF was a turnoff.

“Holly, you’d better get a move on. I don’t want to be late for Sunday school.”

Holly started. She’d been in deep concentration, and her father’s words propelled her into motion. “On my way. Be right back.”

She hustled upstairs, brushed her teeth, put on lipstick and ran to her room to find her Bible. She grabbed it and her purse, happened to look out the window and saw a police car turn into the driveway.
Now what?

Her father beat her to the front door just as the doorbell rang. He opened the door and Holly saw three men on the porch—a uniformed cop and two men wearing suits. “Can I help you?” Mike asked.

“Mr. Harrison?” the man with wavy hair and brown eyes asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Detective Oscar Gosso, with the Tampa Police Department.” He flashed a badge. “This is Sergeant Tim Carroll and Chaplain Jack Frederick.”

Holly saw a small gold cross pinned to the chaplain’s lapel.

“May we come in?” the detective asked.

Evelyn walked into the foyer from the kitchen drying her hands on a dish towel. “What’s wrong?”

“These men want to talk to us.”

Mike and Holly moved aside and the three men stepped in, following her father into the living room. Holly’s heart thudded.
Why had the police come?

“Do you have a son, Hunter Harrison?” the detective asked.

Evelyn looked alarmed. Mike nodded. “Has something happened to Hunter? Was there an accident?”

Holly’s heart hammered and she felt queasy.

“Actually, sir,” the detective said, his eyes darkly serious, “there’s been a shooting at the restaurant where he works. There’s no easy way to tell you this. I’m sorry, but he’s been killed.”

nine

TIME STOOD STILL—absolutely, totally still—for Holly. The past and the future lay trapped between heartbeats, snared in a tangle of micro-moments. In one heartbeat, she had a brother. By the next, she had none. She struggled to stay static between the beats, because to move forward was unthinkable, to go backward impossible. She was aware that time had resumed its flow, and that her heart had jump-started itself, when she heard her mother screaming.

Somehow Holly found herself and her mother sitting on the sofa. Her mother was sobbing and the chaplain was offering her a glass of water. Mike Harrison was still standing, but he looked sickly pale. “Are you sure it’s our son?”

“His empty wallet and photo ID were found on top of him.”

“Who found him?”

“The police. Your son had the presence of mind to trip the silent alarm.”

“How did it happen?” Mike’s voice was a croaked whisper.

“We’ll be going over the security tape downtown, but it looks as if your son—”

“Hunter,” Evelyn interjected. “His name is Hunter.” Her voice broke.

Detective Gosso nodded. He looked sad. “Hunter . . . yes. It looks as if he unlocked the door and some guy came out of nowhere and shoved his way inside. He had a gun.”

“Why?” Evelyn sobbed. “Why would someone shoot Hunter?”

Holly felt numb now, as if she were hearing questions and answers through a thick fog.

“It looks like the motive was robbery.”

“Hunter always said they took the money away every night at closing.”

“Not on Saturday nights, evidently. There’s an unopened safe in the back office.”

“He wouldn’t have known how to open the safe,” Mike said. “No employee has the combination. Only the manager and owner.”

“The owner’s on his way downtown to talk to us.”

“So you’re saying he was killed in cold blood.” Mike’s voice fell to a whisper.

Holly cringed, felt sick to her stomach. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare, so vivid that she could smell the odor of stale coffee and cold fries from the fast-food restaurant where Hunter had died. But it wasn’t a dream. She could wake up from a dream. She saw tears trickle down her father’s cheeks and clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid that she might throw up.

The detective glanced at the others. “The crime scene crew is examining the scene right now. We’ll know more when they tender their report.”

“We want to see our son,” Mike said, clearing his throat.

“The medical examiner has taken Hunter to the morgue for an autopsy,” Gosso told him.

“You said he was shot. Why does he have to go . . . there?”

“It’s routine. We still have to examine the body, retrieve the bullet. For evidence,” Gosso clarified.

“When can we see him?” Evelyn’s voice sounded raspy.

“If you’ll call the ME’s office and give the name of the funeral home where you want Hunter sent, the ME will send him there when he releases the body. The funeral home will call you.”

Evelyn broke down.

“How long will that take?” Mike demanded, looking coiled and edgy.

“Just a few days,” Gosso said soothingly. “I’ll ask the ME to expedite the case. I’ll also give you my phone numbers.” He reached into the breast pocket of his coat and extracted a business card. “I’m giving you my cell number too.” He quickly scribbled on the card. “Call me anytime. Day or night.”

The case. The body. An autopsy.
The phrases whirled around in Holly’s brain like a bad melody with clashing notes that didn’t harmonize with her well-ordered world. Boys like Hunter didn’t get shot to death. Guys like Hunter, who’d never done anything bad to anyone, didn’t get
murdered.
Just thinking the word made her queasy again.

Holly’s mother let out a wrenching sob. “You’ll catch him, won’t you? Please tell me you’ll catch the person who did this.”

The detective’s eyes grew hard. “We’ll catch him, Mrs. Harrison. You have my word.” His gaze held Evelyn’s, and she looked visibly strengthened by his pledge.

Agitated, Mike asked, “What do we do now? How do you expect us to sit around waiting, doing nothing?”

“Stay home,” Gosso said. “Take your phone off the hook.”

Sergeant Carroll added, “News of the shooting went out on the police scanner. The press will be calling. You might want to be ready for that.”

His words shocked and infuriated Holly. What right did a bunch of reporters have to intrude on their family at a time like this?

“We won’t talk to them,” Mike thundered, echoing Holly’s thoughts.

“Just be prepared for it to go on the six o’clock news,” the sergeant said.

Holly blanched as the horror of it all sank in. In only a few hours, the whole city would know about their very private loss. Her tears dried as she visualized the press nosing around her house.
The six o’clock news.
She hated them already.

“I won’t let them on my property,” Mike insisted.

Holly didn’t know how much longer the police and the chaplain stayed, but the second they were gone, she fell to her knees in front of her mother. “I—I have to borrow your car.”

Evelyn’s eyes, red and swollen, stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have to, Mom. Please. I can’t just let her hear about it on the news . . . you know that, don’t you?”

Evelyn’s nod was almost imperceptible. “You can’t leave the house.” Mike sounded aghast at Holly’s request.

Evelyn looked up at him, held his gaze. “She has to, Mike. Take my car, Holly. The keys are on the hook by the kitchen door.”

“She’s too upset to drive—” Mike started.

Holly stood. “I have to do this, Daddy. Please understand.”

He studied her hard. Her heart thumped, but her hands were rock steady. He gave a curt nod and Holly ran from the living room.

Fortunately, traffic was light as she wove her way down side streets and through quiet neighborhoods. Inside the houses, people were unaware that there had been a shift in the universe and that nothing would ever be the same again for Holly and her family and friends.

She turned into the town house complex, made her way to the street where Raina lived. She slowed, her heart pounding.
Keep it together,
she told herself.
Just a little bit farther.
Holly parked, rested her forehead on the steering wheel and took in great gulps of air. She turned off the car’s engine, got out and walked up to Raina’s door, her knees rubbery, her heart thudding with dread. In a few minutes, the universe would collapse for Raina too. It wasn’t fair. Holly would take away the sunshine, alter the course of her friend’s life forever. She rang the bell.

Raina opened the door, saw Holly and smiled. “Hey there, girlfriend!”

Holly watched the smile fade and concern stamp itself on Raina’s pretty face.

“What’s wrong?” Raina looked alarmed.

Holly felt her face crumble inward. “Somebody shot Hunter, Raina. Someone killed my big brother.”

Raina staggered backward, as if Holly had shoved her. “That’s a lie. That can’t be true.” She sank to her knees in the foyer.

Holly crouched in front of her, let Raina search her face with stunned and disbelieving eyes. As the truth of Holly’s words sank in, Raina gagged, almost retched, hugged herself tightly, rocked back and forth on her knees. She began to wail. Holly dissolved into sobs. She reached out and put her arms around her friend and they clung to each other, fighting to stay out of the abyss that threatened to swallow them whole.

Holly couldn’t comfort Raina, and Raina couldn’t comfort her. They needed Hunter. He would help them to be all right. But Hunter was no more. He had disappeared into the vortex of nonexistence, one beautiful, clear, summer Sunday morning, when the evil he had once warned Holly about had come calling.