Harry Hunter Mystery Box Set Page 15

  “Yes, I mean, not really.”

  He smoked again, looking at me with confusion. “I don’t understand. She’s alive, or she’s not?”

  My eyes hit the ground below. “She is…but she’s not. She’s been declared brain dead, and she’ll never wake up.”

  A sob emerged from his lips as he could no longer keep it together. He brought a hand to his mouth while his torso shook. I placed a hand on his shoulder and let him cry for a few seconds, fighting to keep it together myself.

  “Can I…Can I see her?” he finally asked.

  I nodded. “Let me take you there.”

  Chapter 13

  She was practicing her violin. Still, it didn’t help her escape the odd feeling that she’d had all day like someone was watching her. Savannah Hart was worried she might be going crazy. She had been a little paranoid lately and felt an unease deep down in the pit of her stomach. Not even being inside her own home could help her feel at ease, and that was puzzling to her. Savannah stopped playing and walked to the window, then looked outside. A car was parked on the other side of the road. Was someone inside it? Was that the person who was watching her?

  Savannah took a deep breath, then closed the curtains tightly, shaking her head. No, it was crazy. Besides, she had to practice for her concert next week. Savannah played in the Miami Symphony Orchestra and had since she was nineteen.

  During the day, she was a music teacher at the local elementary school. It was a job she enjoyed more than anything. Giving away her joy of string music to the young ones was a privilege.

  Savannah didn’t have any children of her own and was never going to. Cancer had forced the doctors to remove her uterus when she was fifteen, and that put an end to that dream. It was a great sorrow for Savannah to know she’d never be a mother, and she had devoted herself to her strings instead, making that her passion.

  She had barely begun playing her music again when her phone rang. She grumbled and picked it up. It was—of course—her mother. Just checking in, as usual, three or four times a day, depending on her level of paranoia. She had been like this ever since Savannah had been diagnosed with cancer as a teenager. She was constantly terrified that Savannah would drop dead, or worse, get kidnapped or killed in the big city.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said with a sigh.

  “Oh, good, you’re home,” her mother said, her worried voice vibrating. “I thought you’d call as soon as you got home from work.”

  “Well, I forgot. I needed to practice. Besides, we spoke this morning, remember? You told me to check the romaine lettuce in my fridge and throw it out if it was from California where they had found E Coli.”

  “Yes, well, did you? Lots of people have gotten sick from this lately. You really should be careful.”

  “Mom, I don’t even have romaine lettuce in my fridge.”

  Savannah closed her eyes tiredly. It was on days like these she wanted to leave the country and move to some small island somewhere, where they had no phones, where it could just be her playing her violin and nothing else. She was sick of having to deal with her mother every day like this. She constantly worried. It was probably all her concern that had made Savannah paranoid and feeling like she was being watched all the time.

  It was exhausting.

  “Listen, Mom, I gotta go.”

  “Oh, really? You haven’t lit any candles, have you? I just read that the fumes are toxic…”

  “Goodbye, Mom. I need to practice. I’m sure I’ll talk to you later.”

  She hung up with a deep sigh, then rubbed her forehead. She put the violin back up on her shoulder, then closed her eyes and disappeared into her music, trying to get that feeling of unease to leave her body by playing it away.

  Chapter 14

  “So, she’s basically just lying there and can’t do anything at all? She can’t even hear me?”

  David stood by his daughter’s bedside and looked down at her, shaking his head. Doctor Scott had come in with us.

  “I’m afraid not, Mr. Smith,” he said. “There has been no brain activity detected over the past three weeks, and she has been declared brain dead. That means her brain is no longer working in any capacity and never will again. I am sorry.”

  David touched her arm gently, running a finger up against the skin. “She’s grown so much, you know? I can’t believe how tall she’s gotten. She looks just like her mother now.”

  He wiped his nose with his hand, then sniffled, pushing back more tears, looking at the ceiling.

  “I never should have left them. I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought…I thought it was best for them. You know what I mean?”

  I nodded like I did.

  “Me and Jen, we were…fighting every day, and I thought they’d be better off without me. I was in no state to take care of them. I got in with the wrong group and I…well, I feared for their lives, for our lives. I didn’t know that things were this bad. I didn’t know they were sleeping in their car. I mean, when you first came to me, I thought maybe they had been in a car accident, or they had been shot or something. It was a bad neighborhood where we used to live. I hoped that if I left, the gangs would leave them alone. I owed money, you know? I got myself into a lot of trouble, and there was no other way out. I had to do it. I had to go into hiding. That’s why I changed my name and left and have kept hidden for years, not even contacting my daughter on her birthdays and missing all the Christmases. I thought they were safe this way, at least from me and my problems. I didn’t know they had lost the house and were living in a car. I didn’t know they were in trouble. And I have to say; I never thought that she would…that Jen would…kill herself. She was such a survivor, you know? A true fighter. I’ve known her for fifteen years. She never struck me as someone who’d do that.”

  “Living in the streets, sleeping in your car can be tough,” I said. “She might have grown hopeless, not seeing another way out.”

  “Still…” he said, quietly looking down at Emilia. “I don’t know why she’d do that, and do this to…to our daughter?”

  “Depression and hopelessness can lead people to do things we never thought they’d be capable of,” Doctor Scott said, then signaled for me to leave.

  I walked outside the room, breathing raggedly, my heart breaking. The doctor began his chat with David while I closed the door and left them to it. I walked down the hallway, my heart sinking. I was fighting to keep the anxiety at bay. I stood in the hall, closing my eyes briefly, sliding down with my back against the wall, squatting while praying for the right results, praying that David would make the right decision.

  This was the moment when Doctor Scott would speak to David about shutting off the girl’s life-support and ask if he’d consider donating her functioning organs, and especially her heart. This was the moment my daughter’s future would be determined.

  David Smith held it all in his hands.

  Chapter 15

  Only a few minutes later, the door slammed open, and David Smith stormed out into the hallway. I rose to my feet and looked at him, heart hammering in my chest.

  I didn’t like the expression on his face.

  “You want me to kill my daughter so you can save yours? Is that why you came to find me? You didn’t think I’d figure that one out, did you?”

  I swallowed hard while staring at the man in front of me. Then I nodded. I had told him about Josie before we drove to the hospital and how she was waiting for a donor heart. Of course, he would know it was for Josie when the doctor asked him to consider donating, even if he wasn’t allowed to say who would receive the heart. David was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

  “You’re right,” I said. “That is why I came looking for you. Because my daughter needed your help, but please understand. My daughter’s life depends on her getting a new heart.”

  He snorted. “And so, you thought she could get my daughter’s heart, huh? And tell me, why is your daughter more important than mine, huh? Why is her life worth m
ore than Emilia’s?”

  “It’s not…believe me, I never thought it was. But my daughter has a chance—a very small chance—of living, but only if she gets a new heart.”

  “How can you be so sure that my daughter doesn’t? Do you know the future? Do you know what will happen tomorrow?”

  “Of course, I don’t.”

  “I know what the doctors say about her, about her being brain dead and all that, but do they really know for sure? I mean, there are always stories about people waking up, right? It could happen; it could be a miracle. How can you ask me to shut her off and deny me the possibility of a miracle happening?”

  That hit me where it hurt. Who was I to say that God couldn’t perform a miracle on the girl, even though the doctors had said it was impossible? Was I robbing Emilia of that opportunity? I had seen one happen in my own house. I had seen my wife come back from a condition they said she wouldn’t.

  David stared at me, nostrils flaring, then calmed himself. He gave me a compassionate look.

  “Listen, man…I am sorry about your daughter; I really am. If anyone understands what you’re going through, it’s me right now. If I could give you any of my organs to save her, I’d do so willingly. But I can’t do what you’re asking me to. I simply can’t. I am not going to kill her. I can’t do it.”

  My heart dropped when hearing those words. I knew it had been a long shot from the beginning, but I had to admit, I had believed in it to the end. I had truly thought he would see the sense in saving my daughter.

  “I understand,” I said, my voice breaking.

  He placed a hand on my back. “I’m sorry. I’m sure there is another heart out there for her.”

  I didn’t look at him. I just turned around and walked away, trying to hide my tears. I wasn’t angry with him. I truly wasn’t. He was right. We didn’t know tomorrow. We couldn’t know for sure that something amazing wouldn’t happen. Fact was, I knew I would have done the same. I, for one, believed in miracles and would never dare to take God’s matters into my own hands. How could I ask him to do something I never would?

  Chapter 16

  My dad promised to take care of Camille, so I could spend the night with Josie, holding her hand. She felt so weak and feeble, and her eyes were filled with concern as she looked at me.

  “There’ll be another heart, Dad,” she said, speaking with a small, still voice. It was so typically Josie to worry more about me in this situation than herself. “I’m sure they’ll find one in time. God won’t leave me or let me die like this, and you know it.”

  I exhaled and smiled. I had to admit I admired her faith in this crucial moment and wished I could have just a piece of it, just enough to make it through the night. But the fact was, I was losing all my faith and with it my hope that things would end up all right. It was hard to believe in miracles when sitting and holding your dying daughter’s hand, everything screaming inside of you.

  Where are you, God? Why is this happening to me? Don’t you care about me? You can’t let her die. You can’t let her die!

  I held her hand in mine till she dozed off, then decided to go to the vending machine to quiet my screaming stomach. I had gotten some chocolate when an alarm suddenly sounded. I immediately glanced toward my daughter’s room, only to see nurses rushing about.

  Josie!

  I dropped my chocolate bar and ran to her room. Inside, nurses were yelling, and the machines sounded like they were screaming.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Please, stay outside,” a nurse told me and closed the door.

  I stared at the closed door, my heart sinking. I didn’t even see Jean come running down the hallway. She came up to me, her face strained. She was holding papers in her hand that she held up in front of me.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, perplexed.

  Tears sprang to my eyes. “I…I don’t know. All the alarms went off and then…they told me to wait out here. I fear her heart has…”

  Jean’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, no.”

  She held the papers up so I could see them. I didn’t understand.

  “He signed them,” she explained. “The consent forms. Doctor Scott left them in Emilia’s room, and the dad signed them and left them in there. I came straight from there. I went to check on her vitals and saw that he was gone; her father was gone. On the table, he had left the papers and this note. It has your name on it.”

  She held the note up and showed it to me. It read:

  IT’S ALL MY FAULT. I KILLED HER. I KILLED MY DAUGHTER. NOW YOURS WILL LIVE. TREASURE EVERY MOMENT YOU HAVE WITH HER.

  I read it a few times to make sure I had read it right, then looked up at Jean. “So... that means…?”

  She nodded. “That was why I came down here…to tell you that you got the heart. You got it, Harry. Josie has a new heart.”

  I stared at Jean and felt so confused. I didn’t know what to think. Was Josie saved? Or was it too late?

  That was when the door of Josie’s room burst open, and she was rushed out on a stretcher and soon disappeared down the hallway. Jean followed them, leaving me behind, feeling completely helpless.

  ONE MONTH LATER

  Chapter 17

  “Do we have any avocado? I am in such a mood for avocado.”

  I turned to look at my daughter. Josie was out of her bed and sitting in the kitchen. She was getting bored with being at home all day long, and I was about ready to send her off to school again soon.

  The school had been really great and understanding. They had let her do online school as much as she was capable, and luckily, she was a bright kid, so she’d catch up soon enough when she got back.

  Her breastbone still wasn’t entirely healed after the transplant, and we still had to keep a close eye on her incision wound, cleaning it often so it wouldn’t get infected. Other than that, she seemed to be fit for fight. The first two weeks after the transplant, she was still weak and got tired really easy. But now she was my good old Josie with the big brown, gleaming eyes. She was slowly gaining weight again, even though she had to watch her diet to speed up the recovery and make sure she didn’t eat too much fat and stayed with lots of greens. She was going to have to take medication for the rest of her life to make sure her body didn’t reject the heart, but that was a small price to pay.

  “Avocado?” I asked puzzled. “You don’t like avocado. I never buy them because you hate them?”

  Josie shrugged. She had taken her sketchbook out and was drawing some strange creature with only one eye. She had been into a lot of creepy stuff lately, and I figured it was a phase. Josie looked at her finished product, then turned the page and began a new drawing.

  “Well, now I do,” she said.

  I dried my hands on a dishtowel. “I’ll buy some when I shop later. They’re good for your heart.”

  My boss, Major Fowler, had also turned out to be great through this time of hardship for me. He had let me work from home a lot while taking care of Josie. That, along with my dad’s help, stepping in when I needed it, ensured I was able to manage through this past month.

  I was still working on the Four Seasons’ case and had to admit I hadn’t gotten anywhere with it. Not that I wasn’t trying; I guess my focus was just somewhere else these days. Not that anyone blamed me. I had dodged a major bullet here. No wonder all I wanted was to be with my daughter and enjoy still having her.

  Meanwhile, Josie spent most of her time during the day sitting with her mother, talking to her. Camille still hadn’t improved much, but she did say Josie’s name often, sometimes repeating it several times in a row, other times yelling it out, and that made our daughter feel like she was listening to what she said. Even though we all knew it was the only word Camille could say and that it could mean a lot of things. It still made Josie feel like she was special to her mother.

  Jean had started to stop by again regularly since the operation, and I liked that. She checked in on Camille and was bugging me about getting C
amille to a rehabilitation center so she could start getting her legs and arms to function again along with her speech. I had been looking at a couple of places that were within my budget, but there was a waitlist. It would take a few months, they said. Once again, we’d have to be patient.

  It was hard for me not to think about David Smith. Every time I looked at my daughter, I felt such profound gratefulness to the man, and it pained me that I didn’t know where he was. I wanted to do something for him in return; I just didn’t know what. What would make you feel better after doing something like this? Maybe it was more my desire than it was his because I felt awful that his daughter had to die for mine to live.

  “Also, buy some root beer,” she said while still drawing.

  I paused. “Excuse me? Root beer?”

  She looked up and nodded, mocking me. “Yes, root beer, Dad. You know…the sodas.”

  “I know what root beer is, but you hate root beer, remember?”

  She gave me that look, the one only a teenage daughter can give you and get away with.

  “Well, not anymore. Things are changing, Dad. Keep up.”

  And with that, she let go of her sketchbook and left me. I stood back, smiling. Just watching her walk up the stairs made my heart so happy. She was no longer out of breath easily, and she seemed to be growing stronger and stronger each day that passed. It was hard to believe that it was the same girl who had been so weak just a short while ago, lying in her hospital bed.

  It had been the last minute, they said. Josie’s body had given out right before Jean brought me the signed papers. They had told me afterward that her organs were shutting down . If David hadn’t signed the papers when he did and Jean found them when she did, it would have been too late.