Chapter 33. Holly
Holly
Holly met Gail outside the police station, a heavy anxiety weighing her down.
Was she wrong to trust her? What other choice did she have?
With one call, Gail had accomplished what Holly couldn’t—she got the police to cooperate.
She’d come down to the station to make sure everything was in order.
She didn’t even ask for anything in return.
The day was warm and bright. The sweet scent of vanilla drifted from the nearby ice-cream shop.
Gail stood with her hands on her hips, assessing the police station as though prepping to sell it to the highest bidder.
She wore well-fitted navy dress slacks with a subtly patterned blouse.
An elegant gold watch dangled delicately from her wrist. In contrast, Holly had shown up in jeans and a burnt-orange T-shirt (a women’s cut, at least), looking about as put together as an IKEA desk still in its box.
Gail greeted Holly with an air-kiss that said we’re close, but not lips-to-skin close.
“Okay, I handled all the details,” said Gail, breathlessly enthusiastic as always. “Tom Walker’s not here, and his supervisor said he’s happy to help. You can look through the evidence to your heart’s content.”
In a blink, Gail’s exuberance downshifted from fifth to first. She lowered her sunglasses, allowing Holly to see the regret in her eyes.
“Forgive me. I got so carried away that I forgot why you’re doing this.” She gently squeezed Holly’s hand. “Are you all right?”
Holly swallowed hard. Was she okay? She had to be. There was no turning back.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for helping.”
Holly steeled herself for what she needed to do. Why hadn’t the Carmichael family and staff been thoroughly investigated? There had been many personal conflicts within the walls of Miramar, yet the police had paid little attention to its residents.
And assuming the blaze was an accident, how did it start?
And why was Anna alone in the guesthouse if she’d gone there to meet Conrad?
The incident had been treated as a closed case even with all these unanswered questions.
She’d never get a straight explanation out of Tom Walker, who was cagier than a zoo—but perhaps the evidence would paint a clearer picture.
“Did you bring the mangled book? It could be related to your investigation.”
Holly shook her head. She’d told Gail about the book when they were finalizing their plans for the day. “No, I threw it away. It got a little gooey after its marinara bath. The sauce probably destroyed any useful evidence anyway.”
“It was a threat, Holly. At the very least, it warrants police attention.”
“I’ll think about it. Right now, the police aren’t on my most-trusted-partners list—but you’ve earned a spot there. Thanks again for helping me.”
“I’m sorry I can’t stay.” Gail placed her hand on Holly’s arm. “I tried everything to reschedule my showing. It came up at the last minute, and the buyer won’t budge on the time.”
“No, please, it’s fine,” Holly said. “It might be better this way. This is something I should do on my own.”
Gail gave Holly a reassuring hug. “Call after. Let me know how it goes.”
Holly went inside, straight to the dispatch window, letting a young officer know she’d arrived.
The wait felt interminable. Holly suspected this was a fool’s errand. Freeing herself from guilt couldn’t be as easy as peeking inside a box.
With little to do, her mind drifted back to the last day of Anna’s life.
The aftermath might have been blurry, but the hours preceding Anna’s death were seared into her memory like an iron branding.
Her sister remained frozen in time, forever twenty-four.
Her hair would always be lustrous and full-bodied.
Her hazel eyes would never stop shimmering.
On that fateful day, Anna had slipped into their bedroom at the cottage like a girl with a secret. She moved Holly’s copy of The Time Traveler’s Wife from the edge of the bed and sat down.
She had on the cutest summer dress—it was yellow and strappy and hadn’t looked half as good on Holly when she’d tried it on. But her sister’s usually radiant smile was dim. Trouble lurked in her eyes. And only then did Holly realize it had been that way for several days.
“I need a favor,” Anna said.
Holly sat up straighter. Her big sister hardly ever asked for help.
It was always the other way around. When they were small, Holly needed help reaching things high up.
Later, Anna taught her how to ride a bike and ice-skate.
As they grew, her sister assisted Holly with schoolwork and gave her advice on boys.
But suddenly, Anna needed Holly. It was a rite of passage.
Holly closed the lid on her laptop, lest Anna see she was writing a fictionalized account of her sister’s summer romance with Conrad Carmichael. She was editing the scene where Elizabeth (Conrad’s fiancée) tripped Anna in the middle of a big posh beach party because she was a jealous cow.
Holly shut off her MP3 player, which had been blasting “Hollaback Girl” by Gwen Stefani—so boss.
“What’s going on?” she asked, though she already knew.
It must have something to do with Conrad.
He had taken up the whole summer. Holly understood the attraction.
He was dreamy, but in that asshole preppy way that didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. After the catering gig, Holly wanted nothing to do with him or his highfalutin family, but Anna had been smitten from the start.
Holly didn’t like seeing the emotional toll the fling had taken on her sister, but she bit back her I told you so and asked what she could do to help.
“I got a note from Conrad. I have to go meet him later. He wants to see me, but he doesn’t know I’m breaking up with him … I need to do it—tonight. Can you come with me?”
Holly blinked in confusion. “Um, isn’t that like a you thing? That’s kinda personal.”
Anna returned a frustrated smile. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I need you there. I might get second thoughts or cold feet if I’m alone with him. I can’t let that happen. You don’t have to do anything. Just be there for me.”
Holly shrugged. “When are you doing this? Sorry, when are we doing this?” Why was she jittery when it was Anna’s love life on the line?
“Just meet me in front of the candy shop at seven thirty, okay? And be discreet. I don’t want Mom asking any questions.”
Holly agreed. She didn’t have plans that night, and she’d have another few hours to write before she had to leave.
But then Max called—the beautiful boy who made her heart leap.
They talked about everything. Back then, both were obsessed with the TV show Lost. Holly shared all her theories, and Max had a few of his own.
They both had MySpace pages, and Max bragged about his new cell phone.
Coincidently, they were conversing about Lost when Holly realized the time.
Her stomach dropped like it did when she and Anna had ridden the Superman roller coaster at Six Flags. She raced to the candy store on her bike but arrived twenty minutes too late. Anna wasn’t there. Holly waited long enough to know she’d missed her.
Holly rode to Miramar, up that big hill, short of breath as she pedaled as hard as her legs could pump.
When she arrived, the gate was locked. The fences and surrounding shrubbery were both tall and spiky.
No way was she climbing over that. If Anna knew a secret way in, she had never shared it.
There were lights on in the main house, but Holly wasn’t about to hit the intercom.
What could she possibly say to explain her presence? Anna didn’t even work there anymore.
She rode home, feeling even worse.
She arrived to an empty house. Her mother had gone for a walk; a note on the kitchen table said that she’d be back soon.
Holly trudged upstairs to her bedroom. It was the first time Anna had asked for her help—and Holly had let her down big-time.
Her mother returned a short while later. She asked about Anna, who hadn’t yet come home. Holly said she didn’t know her whereabouts. At least it wasn’t an outright lie. She assumed her sister had fallen back into Conrad’s arms but couldn’t say for certain.
Holly tried to read to distract herself from the guilt that wouldn’t let go. Eventually she fell into an uneasy sleep.
Her rest didn’t last long. Something woke her with a start—a loud explosion powerful enough to shake their cottage.
Holly met her mother in the hallway, both frantic. When they got outside, the sky was burning orange. A plume of smoke rose ominously from the bluff, swirling against the flickering blaze.
Miramar.
Holly had just been there, standing outside a locked gate.
Her mother looked at her with alarm. Did she know more about Anna’s romance with Conrad than she’d let on?
“Where did your sister go tonight?” Her voice was stern.
This time, Holly couldn’t lie.
They took off, still in their pajamas, running side by side up the hill toward the Carmichael estate. The blaze roared in the distance. Fire trucks and ambulances screamed past them, sirens blaring, as flames swallowed the dark.