Read Online Angels in Pink: Holly's Story (Lurlene McDaniel (Mass Market)) by Lurlene McDaniel - Free Book Online
Authors: Lurlene McDaniel
Tags: Fiction
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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
“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
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