As she worked, her thoughts went over and over her day. She’d been so up and down emotionally that it was like being on a rollercoaster that never ended. Thinking about it only made it worse but she couldn’t seem to stop.
When she finished with the couch, it occurred to her that Carl might have gotten hold of her cash, but more importantly, her family album. Praying she was wrong, she went to the coat closet by the front door. It had been emptied of its contents that were now strewn across the floor. The album wasn’t in sight. Inside she located the sturdy panel that didn’t move easily. It took some maneuvering to open it, but she’d done it so many times she didn’t have a problem with it.
Her cash was stashed in a black bag back beyond the photo album where it was so dark it was almost impossible to see.
She’d hidden the cash, yes, but it was the album that was precious to her. She brought it out and sat on the floor, her back to the front door. She could hear anyone who might drive up and put the album away before it could be seen.
With a sigh she opened the album and a smile touched her lips as she saw her mom and dad’s wedding picture. She gently touched the picture, tracing her mother’s and father’s outlines with her fingertip.
A lump lodged in her throat. Her parents had been so in love. Her father had been devastated when her mother died. When her father told her he was going to marry the woman who became her stepmother, Hollie had told him she didn’t need a replacement mother. She was fine with her father to care for her and she cared for him. But he’d insisted that Hollie needed a woman’s influence in her life. If only he’d listened to her—life would have been so much different.
For some time she looked through the photo album. She smiled as she looked at the photos of her mother laughing and her father smiling, and her own school pictures. She especially liked the photos of the three of them together.
A tear rolled down her cheek. This time it was for the loss of her parents. She missed them so very much. She carefully took a photo our of her mom and dad and tucked it into her purse to keep it close… And just in case her stepbrothers found the album.
After she put away the photo album, she cleaned the house, one room after another. In her room she found the floorboard moved that had hidden the music box. Not only had it been taken, but her small pistol that had been inlaid with pearl, a gift from her father, was also gone.
It had been late when she’d arrived home from John’s, so by the time she finished cleaning, the sun was rising. She paused to look out her bedroom window, watching the glorious sunrise as pink and oranges spread across the horizon.
Exhausted, she lay down on her bed, hoping she could get in a little nap. But no matter how she tried, sleep would not come. She lay there, eyes wide open, her mind ruminating over all that had happened. The rollercoaster of emotions wouldn’t stop—it was never ending.
With a heavy sigh, she rolled off the bed and onto her feet. She headed into the bathroom to take a shower and turned on the water to let it run until it was warm. She stripped out of her bloody snowman sweater, her bra, jeans, and panties. She’d already taken off her shoes and socks.
Once the water was warm, she stepped beneath it, tilting her face to the spray and letting the water wash away the feel of Carl’s hand against her face and every other ugly thing that had happened.
Instead, she let her thoughts travel to John and how sweet and wonderful his kisses had been. She thought of how he’d looked at her, how he’d told her she was beautiful with such sincerity that she’d believed him.
She touched her fingers to her face and her lips trembled. John had told her she should kick her stepbrothers out of her home. Could she do it? Or would they beat her or something equally as bad?
Her body shook as she looked down. She hated that she was a coward when it come to her stepbrothers. She hated how beaten down they made her feel, as if every good thing in her life had been drained away and she’d never be happy again.
She clenched her jaw and turned her back to the spray. No, she was more than that. More than a broken doll to be thrown away and discarded. She raised her chin. There had to be something that she could do. Something.
Tired. She was so tired. Not just physically but mentally.
She let out a long, shuddering breath. It was a new day and she would figure this out. She had to. She couldn’t live like this anymore.
Chapter 8
It was close to noon when Hollie headed to the police station to bail out Dickey and Floyd. Thank God Carl and Freddy hadn’t come back. Carl was probably in town at Freddy’s, drunk and sleeping it off. Just the thought of the two men sent a shudder through her.
Right now she was more angry than afraid. What she did know was that starting today, things were going to change. Things had to change if she was to survive.
Her palms stung from her wounds as she gripped the steering wheel. She pulled the car up to the police station and parked. She felt stiff and sore all over and her face and head ached.
When she shut off the car, she slid on a pair of big sunglasses that did a pretty good job of hiding her black eye. She let her hair hang long and loose, and it covered part of her swollen face. Nothing could be done for her split and puffy lip. There was no putting makeup on to hide it. She hoped she wouldn’t run into John and that he wasn’t working today. Even though she could hide her black eye with her sunglasses, she didn’t want to explain why her face was swollen and her lip was split.
This would be the last time she’d bail out her stepbrothers. As a matter of fact, it was the last thing she’d ever do for them. She was ready to draw a line in the sand. She knew she could ask John or the sheriff for help but she intended to do it herself.
She climbed out of her car and despite the sweater and jeans she shivered. Over her car radio, the weather forecaster said to expect snow that evening. She liked the change of seasons, including snow, which was one reason why she was happy living in the northern part of the state as opposed to moving to the Phoenix area.
Sometimes she’d thought of leaving, abandoning all of the bad memories and starting fresh by selling the ranch and moving from Prescott to Phoenix or Tucson. But she had so many good memories here along with the bad. She couldn’t let her stepbrothers ruin it all for her.
Warm air chased away the chill as she stepped into the police station and closed the door behind her. Her sunglasses made everything seem somewhat dark and she wished she could take them off.
Considering the number of times she’d bailed out her stepbrothers, she knew the procedure and didn’t have to be told what to do. As she made her way across the station, her heart skipped a beat when John walked through a door.
Despite everything, she felt drawn to John in a way she’d never been drawn to anyone. His strength, his presence called to her. He looked so good in his uniform, so strong and powerful.
He smiled when he saw her, but immediately his smile faded and his hard features looked both concerned and angry. He headed toward her and was standing in front of her in a matter of a few strides.
“What happened?” His voice was as hard as his expression but his eyes were concerned. “Who hit you?”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Like hell.” He reached up and took off her sunglasses. He cursed when he saw her black eye and bruised cheek. His voice went low and even harder. “Tell me who did this, Hollie. Dickey and Floyd are here, so was it Carl?” When she didn’t respond he swore again.
“I’m taking care of it.” She eyed him steadily.
John’s eyes were narrowed. If she didn’t know that it was her stepbrother that John was furious with, and if she hadn’t spent some time with him last night, she might have been afraid of him.
He cupped her face with his hand and lightly ran his thumb over her cheek. Even though his touch was feather-light, her eyes watered and she flinched. “This is not okay,” he said. “You’ve told me that you’re afraid of your brothers’ reta
liation. This isn’t something you should handle yourself.”
“I’ve made up my mind.” She raised her chin and her gaze didn’t waver as she met his eyes. “This is something I have to do.”
John moved his hand away from her face, his jaw tight. “The sonofabitch assaulted you and you need to report it.”
She shook her head. “Stop worrying about me.”
“Damn it.” He took her by the shoulders, gripping her firmly. “Don’t be stubborn about this.”
She said nothing and his expression made him look like his features were carved out of stone. His radio crackled and he put one hand to it but never took his eyes off of her. He responded to the dispatcher then removed his other hand from her shoulder.
“I have to leave.” His tone was firm. “Stay here until I get back. We’ll take care of it after I handle this.”
She just watched him as he jogged to the door. He looked over his shoulder for one moment when he went through the door and then he was gone.
More determined than ever, she bailed out her stepbrothers but left before they could tell her they needed a ride. Their trucks were probably still parked at the Highlander and they could walk there as far as she was concerned.
Instead, she headed for the closest locksmith. She was going to take care of her problem and there was no stopping her.
* * * * *
John sped toward the scene, his lights flashing and his siren screaming. He needed to focus on the situation ahead of him but he couldn’t help his fury over what Carl Whitfield had done to Hollie. John’s anger was hot and liquid and he had to fight to contain it.
Hollie had looked so pale and fragile, like the wrong words could cause her to shatter. John ground his teeth, wanting to kill Carl with his bare hands.
John was the first to arrive at the house where the sound of gunshots had been reported. It was in a poor neighborhood without a homeowners association, the yard choked with weeds, and a rusted old car up on blocks in the street in front of the house.
Without his partner, John was required to wait for backup. Still, he climbed out of his cruiser, weapon drawn as he eased up the porch to the front door. The stairs creaked but he didn’t hear any noises coming from the house.
When he reached the front door, he listened but still heard nothing. An unmarked vehicle pulled up next to John’s cruiser. Reese and Will Carter. John waited for them to join him on the porch.
When they were in position, John called out, “Police! Open the door!”
Silence followed his shout. He reached out and touched the door, which creaked open without having to turn the knob.
John looked at Reese who nodded. John kicked the door open. “Police! We’re coming in.”
The smell of death hit him the moment he entered the house. John’s gaze swept over the body on the floor, barely acknowledging it as he, Reese, and Carter first cleared room after room. When they determined the house was empty save for the body in the front room, John holstered his weapon and went to the dead man whose face had been blown off.
Carter searched the man’s pockets but didn’t find any ID. The one thing they did find was the tattoo on the side of the man’s neck that told them he belonged to Jesus Perez’s gang.
John dragged his hand down his face. “Too short and too slim to be Jesus. I’d guess this is Bobby Dominguez.”
Reese nodded. “I’d bet you’re right.”
John reported to the dispatcher and it wasn’t long before the coroner and techs arrived and the scene was being processed.
As he walked outside, his cell phone vibrated in his holster. He looked at the number, which looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Lieutenant McBride,” he answered.
“John,” Hollie’s hysterical voice came over the phone. It was a bad connection and he could barely make out what she was saying. “Carl…dead…my gun.”
“Hollie?” he asked. He needed to make sure it was her since the connection was so bad.
“Yes.” She sounded as though she was choked with fear and hysteria. “Carl. He’s dead.”
His gut tightened. “Where are you?”
“Home,” she said with a sob.
“I’m on my way.” He started to say something else but the connection cut out and then she was gone.
* * * * *
Hollie was covered with blood. Carl’s blood. She barely realized she was clenching her pearl-handled pistol and couldn’t stop staring at his body and the pool of blood congealing beside him, and the smears across the floor. His sightless eyes stared at the ceiling.
She backed away from his body and against the wall. She slid down the wall and landed on the floor, never taking her eyes off of Carl. What had been Carl. The man who had backhanded her last night would never strike her again.
Her mind spun as she tried to grasp onto some form of reality. She finally looked away from his body and stared at the gun in her hand. It was covered with her bloody fingerprints. It wasn’t a heavy weapon but right now it felt like a lead weight. Yet she couldn’t drop it, couldn’t let it go.
The horror filling her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Her mind was reeling, so much emotion that had bottled up inside her suddenly coming out in a scream as she stared at her bloody hands. Blood had soaked the cuffs of her sweater and there were smears across the front and on her jeans.
Everything was a blur and she couldn’t think straight. Nothing made sense. What had happened?
She heard the sound of sirens but couldn’t get herself to move. All she could do was look from the gun to Carl’s body and back to the gun again.
The sounds of tires crunching on rocks in the driveway let her know that the police or sheriff’s department had arrived. Probably the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department but maybe John. She had somehow managed to call John and he’d probably called the sheriff since they would have jurisdiction outside the city limits. John’s business card lay on the floor beside her, a red thumbprint on the front of the card. She looked at her phone also lying on the floor and the bloody prints on the keypad.
Next thing she knew there was a banging at the door and she startled. Someone called out “Sheriff” and “We’re coming in.” Yet she didn’t move. Couldn’t move. All she could do was sit there.
A crash and the door burst open. Sheriff’s deputies poured into the room.
One of them spotted her and pointed his weapon at her. “Put down the gun. Nice and slow.”
She met his gaze. Frozen for a moment, unable to process what he was saying. All she could see now was the barrel that was aimed at her.
“Put down the weapon,” he said again. “Now.”
The pistol slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. The deputy kicked it away from her and he lowered his weapon. “I need you to stand and come with me.”
Dully, she stared at the officer and then noticed John behind the deputy.
When she saw him, she wanted to run to his arms and let him hold her and hope that he would never let her go.
“Hold on.” John spoke to the deputy as he moved around the younger man. “I know Hollie.”
The deputy frowned and looked like he was going to say something, but John moved past him. John was in uniform, wearing his badge.
“What happened, Hollie?” John said as he crouched beside her. “Is this Carl’s blood on you?”
Slowly she nodded, her back still against the wall. “He was dying and I tried to stop the blood flow.” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears. “But it was too much. There was so much blood… And I—I was too late to save him.”
John rested his hand on her shoulder. “Did you shoot Carl?”
“What?” She looked at him, startled. “No. I would never shoot anyone.”
“You were holding a weapon and it was pointed at the victim,” the deputy interjected. “You’re covered in blood and you’re pretty beat up.”
“It’s my gun.” Hollie gingerly touched h
er black eye with her fingertips as she turned her gaze from John to the deputy. “The pistol was lying in the foyer when I got home and walked in the front door. I didn’t know how it got there, so I picked it up.” She looked back at John. “I walked into the living room and saw Carl lying there…and the blood… God, there’s so much blood…” She drifted off, still unable to process everything.
“Then what happened?” John prompted.
“He groaned and he looked at me, and he asked for help.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I went to him and tried to stop the blood from leaking out of him.” She shook her head. “Then Carl just died. Before I could do anything, he died.”
“You said you just got home.” John’s features were unreadable. “Did you see anyone? Did you pass anyone on the road on your way home?”
“No one.” She shook her head again. “Carl was the only one here and I didn’t see any other vehicles once I got off the highway and turned onto the road to the ranch.”
“What about on the highway?” John asked. “Did you notice any vehicles coming from the direction of your ranch?”
She strained to remember but nothing would come to her. “Maybe. I don’t remember much that happened before I got here.”
“Who gave you the black eye and split lip?” the deputy asked.
“Carl did.” Hollie’s throat felt raw as she spoke. “When I got home last night, close to midnight.”
The deputy gestured to Carl’s body. “Did you give him those scratches on his arm?”
She looked confused and turned her gaze on the body. “Yes.” She looked back at the deputy. “When he hit me I started to fall and scratched him when I was catching myself.”
“Did you kill him in retaliation for hitting you?” the deputy asked.
“I didn’t kill him.” Shuddering, Hollie rubbed her arms with her palms, feeling unbelievably cold. She started shivering violently.
Held by You Page 6
