Harry Hunter Mystery Box Set

by Willow Rose

  My dad nodded pensively. “So, you think the dad might have killed her? The Miami-Dade County State Attorney?”

  I shrugged. “She was away without him, dancing with another man. He could have followed her there; he could have gotten jealous, who knows?”

  “You think Nick knows, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “It would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?”

  Chapter 12

  I was running late for Camille’s afternoon appointment and rushed in through the doors, pushing her wheelchair ahead of me.

  It had been two weeks since we started coming to the treatment center, and I was finding it increasingly more and more difficult to be everywhere I was needed. Josie was complaining because I was never at home anymore, while Fowler was complaining because I didn’t show up in time for morning briefings, even though I had told him I had to be at the treatment center every morning at nine and every afternoon at five. My cases were being neglected as I seemed to be trying to be several places at once, ending up being nowhere. At least, that’s how it felt. When I was at work, my mind was constantly at home, thinking about all the stuff I needed to do, all the laundry I hadn’t done, all the dishes in the sink, and the dental appointments for Josie, along with her volleyball games and practices, trying to figure out how I was supposed to drive her there while going to the treatment center with her mother. On top of it all, I had to remember to make a lunch for Josie every day and figure out what to cook for dinner.

  It was a lot to balance at once.

  While Camille received her treatment in the hyperbaric chamber, most of my thoughts were with Nick Taylor. I had been going through the old case files of his mother’s death again and again and read every article that was ever written about her disappearance, and every time, it came down to the mysterious Matt. The guy she had been with on the night she died. No one seemed to know who he was or had even seen him when the police asked them back then. Not even the bartender at Sloppy Joe’s, where they were drinking and dancing, could remember him. It was just the two friends.

  Or was it?

  While Camille was inside her chamber, I suddenly realized something. I flipped a couple of pages in the case files until I reached the two statements taken by the police—the first interviews with Kate Taylor’s two friends, Joan and Kristin. There was something about them that had rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning when I first read through them.

  They weren’t a match. And in the places they were a match, they were too much of a match, too similar, down to the choice of words. I didn’t like how they both said that she was bummed out about her marriage and that she needed to blow off some steam, and she wished she could just disappear. They were some very distinct sentences and sounded almost rehearsed…like they had memorized them. And then there was the thing about the guy, Matt. Only the first woman, Kristin, spoke about him on her own. She talked about him like he had been there all evening and said that Kate was all over him—that she was crazy about him. Whereas her other friend Joan didn’t even remember him when asked, or maybe she didn’t want to mention him? Could she be covering for him? Did she know him? While Kristin described him as tall, brown hair and blue eyes, Joan called him bald and stated that she couldn’t really remember him and that she didn’t believe that Kate was very interested in him and that she wouldn’t cheat on her husband. Meanwhile, according to Kristin, she would definitely be able to cheat on her husband.

  It didn’t match up.

  Who was telling the truth?

  Was Joan lying to protect this guy?

  I leaned back, running a hand through my hair, wondering about this and why they hadn’t looked more deeply into this ten years ago, when Doctor Kendrick came in, smiling. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail today, and it made her look younger. Her brown eyes smiled at me.

  “I think she’s done for today. You ready to take her home?”

  Chapter 13

  I drove up in front of my house, my mind still occupied by Kate Taylor’s death, going through the many possibilities, always returning to the one theory I couldn’t escape: That Andrew Taylor, Kate’s husband and Nick’s father, killed her in a fit of jealous rage, angry that she spent the night with some other guy, dancing and maybe even sleeping with him on her thirty-fifth birthday, and that Joan somehow knew this Matt guy and wanted to protect him.

  I turned off the engine with a deep sigh, then got out and grabbed the wheelchair from the back and rolled it up to the door, then opened it and looked in at Camille. Usually, she would be half asleep at this point, tired from her treatment, but not today. Today, she looked at me and smiled, almost laughed as I peeked inside to help her out. Seeing this and hearing her light laughter, I couldn’t help laughing too.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked. “Was it something I said?”

  Knowing she couldn’t answer, I bent over to get her seatbelt off, but as I did, she reached out her hand and grabbed mine. With a light gasp, I lifted my head and looked into her eyes. She was smiling widely while we were holding hands, lifting them in the air. It was a coordinated maneuver that I knew she hadn’t been able to do before. Our eyes locked, and then she spoke, “Th-Thank…you.”

  I almost lost it at this moment. Until now, she hadn’t been able to utter more than one word, and usually, it would make no sense and be completely out of context. Like when she told me someone had tried to kill her, she simply yelled out our daughter’s name. This was different. This was her actually speaking to me.

  “What did you say?” I asked, my eyes watering.

  “Thank…you,” she repeated, then much to my surprise, she continued: “For…for all you h-have done. I don’t deserve it.”

  The words spoken were so clear and flowed from her mouth like it was barely difficult at all. Tears sprang to my eyes as I stared at her, still while we were holding hands and she moved hers in a coordinated fashion, pulling both of our hands up and down.

  “I…I don’t know what to say. Camille. The hand…the movements…and you’re speaking!”

  I said it while almost squealing. She smiled and nodded, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

  “It’s working,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. The treatments. They’re really working!”

  She nodded again while crying.

  I lifted my head, then grabbed her head between my hands and looked into her eyes.

  “You’re back, Camille.”

  She lifted her hand and touched my cheek, then wiped away a tear that had escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. The movement was small and seemingly insignificant, but not to me. To me, it was bigger than any moonwalk. I grabbed her hands and pulled her out of her seat, then stood with her in my arms for a few seconds, letting her stand on her feet; then, once I sensed she had balance, I let go. She stood for a few seconds, staring at me like I had abandoned her, but then realized she was standing on her own, actually standing on her own two feet. She wasn’t leaning on the car, and not on me either.

  I nodded, then reached out my hands.

  “Come.”

  Camille took one step toward me, then another before she fell forward into my arms, her legs deflating beneath her due to the lack of muscles after years of not being used while she was stuck in a bed and chair.

  I grabbed her, placed her in her chair, grinning so loudly that Josie must have heard it inside the house because she came running out onto the porch.

  “Dad? What’s going on?”

  “Your mom,” I yelled as I helped Camille sit in her chair. “She…she walked! She actually stood and then walked two steps toward me on her own.”

  Josie shrieked and ran down the stairs toward us.

  “Really? She did?”

  I couldn’t hold back my tears as Josie threw herself into her mother’s arms. Camille chuckled and cried at the same time, while Josie held her close.

  “And she spoke,” I said, wiping tears away from my cheeks. “She spoke real sentences, several of
them.”

  “Really?” Josie said and looked at her mother. “Is this true? You’re better now, like really better?”

  Camille nodded. “I…am.”

  Chapter 14

  Jean was sitting in her kitchen, eating Ramen noodle soup since she wasn’t in the mood for cooking. She hadn’t been for quite a while now, probably ever since she stopped cooking for Harry and his family. It was like it was pointless now that it was just herself and not an entire family who needed her.

  She missed being needed.

  Jean sighed and looked into her soup. A lot seemed pointless these days. She was staying away from Harry, giving him his space and letting them be a family, but what did that mean for her? Where did that leave her?

  Destined to be alone for the rest of her life?

  You fell in love with the wrong guy.

  That’s what her mother would have said if she ever told her about him, which she never would. Her mother could be very judgmental when she wanted to, and she wanted to…a lot. It was like she enjoyed watching Jean lose confidence and feel like a child again. It was one of the reasons Jean never involved her in anything in her life. She kept her mother at a distance so she wouldn’t be able to criticize her for her choices in life.

  But this one, she would have been right about. You blew it, Jean. You wasted your love on a man that wasn’t available.

  She had barely finished the thought, feeling sorry for herself, when she heard the screaming from outside in the street. It made her rush to the window and look out. There they were, Josie, Harry, and Camille.

  Jean walked out on the porch, then looked down at them. As she stood there, Harry spotted her and called out to her.

  “Jean! It’s amazing!”

  Jean walked down the stairs and approached them, heart pounding in her chest like a hammer.

  “She walked,” Harry said as Jean came close. He had tears in his eyes and his voice was breaking.

  “And talked,” Josie added. “God is healing her. God is so good!”

  “He sure is. Isn’t it wonderful?” Harry asked.

  Jean looked at him. She wanted to scream. Of course, it was wonderful. Of course, it was a miracle and worth celebrating.

  But it also shut down her hope of ever being with Harry, of him ever putting Camille in a home. If Camille was really coming back, Jean didn’t stand a chance. She knew it was selfish to think like this since she should be thrilled for them, and in a way, she was. She just wasn’t thrilled for herself, for her own sake.

  She was devastated.

  Jean forced a smile through her tears. “That is wonderful news, Harry, really. I am so happy for y’all.”

  “It’s the new treatment,” Harry said. “I’ve seen little improvements every time we’ve gone. Like her being more alert, her looking at me more when I spoke, and smiling more. Little things. And today, she took a huge leap forward. I have to say it was hard to believe that there would ever be any improvement. But here we are. I can’t believe it, Jean.”

  Jean swallowed and nodded while looking into his sweet eyes, the very eyes she loved so dearly. She felt her eyes tear up and bit her lip.

  “I should…I have to get back. But congratulations to all of you. It’s amazing; it truly is.”

  While still speaking the last few words, Jean turned around and hurried toward her home. She walked up the stairs, then turned to look at them. As they rolled Camille back into the house, she made her decision.

  It was time to move on.

  Chapter 15

  “Thank you, God, for bringing Camille back to us. We pray we’ll continue to see improvement in her and that she’ll recover completely. We know you can and will do it because you love us so much. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Josie repeated.

  She was lying in her bed, PJs on, and I realized that she had grown out of them again. We’d had a nice evening together, eating pizza again. Camille had lasted for only about half an hour before her head started to slump and I had to put her to bed. Before she dozed off, she looked at me, then grabbed my wrist.

  “I…am…sorry,” she said.

  I shushed her. “You need to sleep.”

  She had dozed off before I finished the sentence, and I had watched her sleep for a few minutes, wondering what the coming days and weeks would bring. Would I finally get some answers? Would I finally get to know what really happened to her and how it was all connected?

  Would she tell me the truth?

  Would I like what she told me?

  Would I love her again?

  It was hard to tell. I knew I would go far for Josie’s sake. I just didn’t know how far I was willing to go.

  “Good night, Daddy,” Josie said as I turned out the lights and left her room.

  “Good night, sweetie.”

  I closed the door and walked back into my own bedroom. I brushed my teeth and got out of my clothes. I liked to sleep in my boxers as I was usually very hot at night, so I ducked in under the covers and turned the lights off. Then I just laid there in the darkness while a million thoughts rushed through my mind. I was excited and frightened at the same time. It was a strange sensation. Was I ready for this? Was I ready to get Camille back even if it meant I got to know the truth about her? Could I handle the consequences?

  I believed so.

  I sighed and thought about Jean. I had been so excited earlier; I hadn’t even stopped for a second to think about how she felt about it. It had to be tough on her, even though she pretended to be happy for our sake.

  The thought made me feel terrible.

  No matter what I did, no matter how this ended, someone’s heart was going to be broken.

  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, willing myself to think about something else. But then Nick Taylor showed up, and I couldn’t help feeling disillusioned. He didn’t belong in with the adults, among the most dangerous criminals in this country.

  If only I could find the connection. If only I could get him to tell me what made him so angry at his dad.

  I got up and opened my laptop, then logged into the police database, searching for the boy’s name. Something came up that I hadn’t seen before, and suddenly I was looking at what might be exactly what I was searching for. At least it was a step in the right direction.

  If only I knew where it led.

  I closed the lid of the computer, then looked at the clock. It was almost three a.m., and I had been at it for hours. I turned off the light and was about to turn back in when I heard a bump from downstairs and my heart stopped.

  Chapter 16

  I grabbed my gun, then walked into the hallway, holding it out in front of me. I walked to Josie’s door, then peeked inside. She was sleeping soundly, so it wasn’t her bumping around.

  Another sound followed…footsteps across the wood.

  Someone was down there.

  I walked down the first few steps of the stairs, then paused to listen. When there was no sound, I took another few steps down, holding out the gun in front of me.

  I reached the living room, then scanned the area quickly with my gun held out, but couldn’t see anyone. I walked to the light switch and flipped it, then looked at the wall behind the couch.

  Three big letters were painted in red. The paint was wet and still running, spelling one word:

  RAT

  Anger rose inside me, indescribable, uncontrollable anger. It was one thing that they wrote this on my garage door and set a trash bin on fire outside. But entering my home? My house? My sacred place, where my family and I believed we were safe?

  That was something completely different.

  I heard another noise, then turned to look. I found myself face to face with a man. He was wearing a black ski mask, and I couldn’t see his eyes. He was standing by the door to Camille’s room, holding a gun in his hand.

  I pointed my gun at him.

  “Hold it right there.”

  The man lifted his gun as well, and that was when I noticed. As he move
d his jacket, attached to his belt, I saw a golden badge that looked very similar to mine.

  He was a cop.

  Realizing this, I lowered my gun slightly, then tried to look into his eyes, but he was too far away, standing in the darkness by her door.

  “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” I yelled and walked forward, letting my anger drive me. “Why have you come here?”

  “Stop talking,” the voice said. I didn’t recognize it. He had to be from another department. “Stop talking to the feds, or you’re a dead man.”

  “Says who?” I said, still approaching him, hoping to see his eyes better if I got a little closer. “Who are you, and why are you threatening me, huh? You think I’m scared of you, huh?”

  “You’re a dead man, Hunter,” he said, lifting his gun. “We’ll take your entire family if you don’t shut up.”

  The mention of my family angered me further, and my finger on the trigger was hard to control. If I shot this guy now, I would have the law on my side. He was in my house, threatening me and my family.

  “I’m not scared of you. Who do you work for?” I asked. “Who is behind all this?”

  The guy looked at me, then backed up, turned around, and ran down the hallway. I was after him right away, springing toward him, grabbing him by the jacket and pulling him back. Just as I was about to pull the mask off, he reached up and punched me hard on the nose. I fell backward, still holding him, but he had the upper hand now, and the punches were falling on me, hard. This guy knew how to fight. I grabbed him in an armlock, holding him tight when a gun went off.

  Chapter 17

  Jean woke up with a start. She was gasping for air, heart pounding, and sweat springing to her forehead.