Free Held by You by Cheyenne McCray Page A

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 her 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