Holly's Story

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “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 th
em,” 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.

  ten

  KATHLEEN COULDN’T STOP crying. The news about Hunter came from Raina’s mother via a phone call. Mary Ellen was crying when she brought the news to Kathleen, who was preparing to go to Raina’s for an afternoon at the pool. Kathleen called Carson, and when she couldn’t hold herself together on the phone, he came to her house.

  “This is unreal,” Carson kept saying while Kathleen sobbed. “It can’t be happening.”

  “But it did happen. How could someone do that? Just walk up and kill somebody who’d done nothing wrong?”

  “If I ever meet the guy in a dark alley …,” Carson said.

  “It wouldn’t bring Hunter back.”

  With Mary Ellen, they watched the evening news, on which Hunter’s death was the lead story. “Oh, that poor family,” Mary Ellen said, crying openly. “What a terrible thing. Have you talked to Holly yet?”

  Kathleen shook her head. “I’ve called her and Raina both, but their lines are always busy, so I’ll bet they’ve unplugged them. Their cell phones go straight to voice mail, so I know they’ve got them turned off too. I don’t blame them. How can they talk about it yet? It’s too horrible.”

  The TV reporter said that police were going over a surveillance tape that soon would be released to the public, and that the restaurant was offering a large reward for the perpetrator’s capture. “Maybe someone will recognize the scum,” Carson said.

  “This is just too sad.” Mary Ellen, back in her wheelchair since her latest flare-up of MS, shook her head and left the room.

  Kathleen watched her mother go. “I’m worried about Mom.”

  “Why?”

  “Stress causes problems for her.”

  “No one can lead a stress-free life.”

  “But the less stress, the better.” Kathleen sighed. “Don’t you see? This is bringing up all her bad memories from her and Dad’s car wreck. I can tell it’s affecting her.”

  Carson slid his arms around Kathleen and kissed her temple. “I liked Hunter. And if there’s anything you want me to do to help your mother, you or your friends, tell me.”

  “The next few weeks are going to be really hard for all of us. Just be with me through all of it,” she said.

  “There’s no place else I want to be.”

  Holly felt as if their house had been invaded.

  Pastor Eckloes came Sunday afternoon and stayed for hours. The elders came on Monday, and then people from the congregation showed up with food. Not that she or her mother or dad ate much of anything. Food stuck in her throat and she could hardly swallow. No one knew how to comfort them. Many people wanted to pray with the family, except that Holly didn’t feel like praying. She just wanted everyone to leave them alone.

  She hid in her room whenever she could. But the loneliness got to her quickly and she usually ended up pacing the upstairs hallway, listening to the murmurs from the floor below until she wanted to scream, “Go away!”

  Everything in the house whispered Hunter’s name and magnified their loss. In the bathroom Holly shared with him, she put his toothbrush, hairbrush, aftershave and razors into plastic bags and stowed them under the sink, out of sight. It helped to not have to constantly see his belongings, reminding her that he wasn’t coming home.

  In his bedroom, most of his things were packed in boxes and stacked along one wall, ready for the trip to college that would never come. He had stripped his bulletin board above his desk and now only a few lone thumbtacks remained in the cork. His closets were mostly empty and his bed was neatly made. Holly touched his pillow, where his head had lain only the night before, and cried.

  She slept fitfully and woke with a start late Monday night to the sounds of weeping. She followed the sounds and found her mother sitting in the middle of Hunter’s bed, holding his pillow and sobbing into it. Holly eased wordlessly onto the bed.

  “It still smells like him,” Evelyn said.

  Holly buried her face in the pillow, where Hunter’s scent lingered. “Why is this happening?” she whispered. “Why Hunter? Why us?”

  Her mother didn’t speak for a long time. When she did, she said, “All I know, Holly, is that almost nineteen years ago, God gave me a baby boy. A son. And now he’s taken him away. In the cruelest and most terrible of ways, he’s taken him from me.”

  Hunter’s nineteenth birthday was coming up on September 30. Holly cried harder. All she wanted was for the pain to go away. She wanted her mother to comfort her, but Evelyn did not. And inside the shell of Hunter’s room, Holly feared that she could not. Her mother had entered a dark place. She wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon.

  On Tuesday, Holly turned on her cell phone and found her voice
mailbox crammed with messages from Kathleen, Carson, friends from the hospital and friends from school. There were none from Raina. Holly called Kathleen.

  “I’m so relieved to hear from you!” Kathleen cried at the sound of Holly’s voice.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner.”

  “It’s okay. Please don’t even think about it. I—I just needed to hear your voice.”

  Emotion clogged Holly’s throat.

  Kathleen asked, “Have you talked to Raina?”

  “Not since … Sunday.”

  “She’s not taking any calls. Carson and I went to her house on Monday, but her mother said she’s in bad shape and her doctor was giving her sleeping meds and a few tranquilizers to help her through these next few days. Her mother is taking personal days off from work to take care of her.”

  “She was awfully upset,” Holly said, alarmed by the information. At least Holly had her parents to go through the horror with her. Raina was alone. Of course Vicki was around, but they had been at odds for months.

  “The TV stations are showing the surveillance tape. Have you seen it?”

  “We’re keeping the TV off, but I’ll tell my folks.” Holly’s stomach heaved as she thought about actually seeing the person who’d done so much damage to their lives.

  “Do you think you’ll come back to school anytime soon?”

  Holly hadn’t thought once about school in days. “I don’t know.”

  “Mom let me stay home again today, but I’ll have to go tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “I—I have to go now.”

  “Sure,” Kathleen said. “Call me again soon?”

  “I will.”

  Holly hung up, rested her forehead in her hands and was startled when her cell chirped. She didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyway. If some reporter had gotten hold of her number, she was prepared to blast him or her.

  “Hi. I—I wasn’t sure you’d talk to me. I’ve called a couple of times, but didn’t leave messages.” The caller was Chad.