Chapter 34
Taylor stepped up onto the deck, past the many packages, and boxes left there by fans and up to the back door. His fingers were almost too cold to feel the numbers on the keypad as he punched in the code to disarm the security system. A series of beeps told him he could open the door and he slipped the key into the lock and with a click, he and Marcy entered the familiar kitchen. Though they didn't live there anymore, his parents hadn't really changed much about it. They'd always assumed they'd live there again someday when the need for security and privacy wasn't so great. Taylor smiled and shook his head thinking maybe they'd be back here sooner than they'd expected.
"What?" Marcy said.
He wrote on the pad: It's just weird being here now.
"I'll bet." She said. "So, can I see your room?"
I'm not that kind of guy. He wrote, smiling at her.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She said and smacked him on the arm.
"Owww!"
"I'm sorry," she said. "I forgot." He pulled his coat off and helped her with hers, then threw them both on one of the kitchen chairs. She took his hand and pushed his sweater up so she could look at his arm. "Is it better now?" She asked, as she carefully ran her thumb over the newly revealed cuts.
They were healing very well, though she could tell they had been nasty before. He nodded and pulled the sleeve back down, feeling self conscious about the whole thing. He then motioned for her to follow him and they went out into a hallway and down a few steps to a door.
"What's this?" asked Marcy.
He turned and told her, "the garage."
When he opened the door, both their mouths fell open. He had wanted to show her all the pictures and doodles they'd painted on the walls, but none of that was visible for the mountain of stuffed animals, signs, art supplies, letters, books and many other things all addressed to him. His fans had sent him thousands upon thousands of expressions of their feelings about their and his own loss. On one side of the room was opened gifts and on the other were unopened.
"Good heavens Taylor, what are you gonna do with all this?" He was still just standing there awestruck, his mother had told him he needed to come and see it all, but he'd had no idea. "That's a lot of love for you, Taylor." She said and looked up at him.
He suddenly hugged her and buried his face in her shoulder in a way that made her think he didn't want her to know how emotional the moment was for him. They stood that way for a moment then he pulled back, sighed, and rubbed his face. He looked tired to her.
"You ok?" She asked.
He nodded, then picked up a book. It was full of letters to him. Each one telling him how much they would miss his songs and what the music had meant to them, how his words and voice had affected their lives. There was even one from a hater stating that, although he despised their music, he thought it a terrible thing that had happened and he'd never wished anything like that to befall them. Taylor smiled as he read the closing, "Hanson Sucks, Sincerely, Mark Johnson, Chicago, Illinois." That's one I'll definitely have to write back to, he thought to himself. After looking at a few more notes and reading some of the signs Taylor decided he'd had enough for a while and retreated back up the stairs with Marcy following his lead. He went back to the kitchen and picked up the pad he'd left on the table. Marcy watched as he scribbled then handed it to her, Christmas is in a couple days, maybe tomorrow we could go through this stuff and send some to Shelly's school and to some other places that could use it. If I live to be 100, I won't be able to love a thousand teddy bears!
She laughed. "That sounds great, but…uh…could I have that purple one with the blue eyes?"
He grinned, "You can have anything you want."
The ringing of the phone startled both of them. Taylor grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the kitchen and into what had been his parents' bedroom, but was now an office. He looked over at the desk, "it's a fax." He said and he stepped over to it. As he waited he started absently looking through papers and folders strewn across the desk.
Marcy was looking at the many awards and photos on the wall of the band with famous people they'd met. Picture after picture, all smiling, looking like typical fans getting their picture taken with their idols. Also, gold records and singles. She was so engrossed in the things on the wall, she hadn't noticed Taylor's expression as he found a folder full of photos, reports, clippings and research, all sent to his father by the private investigator who'd been hired by the insurance company that had paid out millions of dollars because of Taylor's loss to both the record company and to Taylor himself. The photographs of the crime scene had been enough to make him feel sick, but to add to the turmoil, there were pictures of Tom, and worst of all, Sarah. As he looked at her face, all the guilt and pain and sorrow came crashing down on him.
"Oh man, you guys met David Bowie?! My mom will freak..." Marcy turned to see him standing there with tears streaming down his face clutching something to his chest. "What's wrong?!" she rushed over to him, as he stumbled backwards stopped by the wall. "Taylor, are you alright?" He looked at whatever was in his hand again and sunk down to the floor. "What is it?" she didn't know what to do, he was obviously having some sort of panic attack or something and he didn't seem to even know she was there.
She grabbed the phone and began to dial the Hanson's number. She placed her hand on his chest and his heart was pounding. His cheeks, normally pink were flushed bright red and sweat was forming on his upper lip. The phone was busy. "Oh God, what am I gonna do?" she said trying not to panic herself. She bent down to eye level with him. "Taylor," she said very calmly, "I need to know Ike's cell phone number, ok? Can you tell me the number?" He didn't respond to her so she hit redial, praying it would ring this time. Still busy. "Shit!"
Not knowing what to do, she called her own house thinking her mother or father could go down the street to the house and tell them, but she only got the answering machine. Finally, after looking at Taylor again as he slowly backed up into the corner, she dialed the number of Greg's pager, praying he was still at the party. She punched in the numbers printed on the phone, then hung up, waiting for her brother to call back. She could hear Taylor's breathing and she considered whether or not she should call 911. Just as she was about to go over to him, the phone rang. "Oh, thank God!" She said and she picked it up. "Yes?!"
"This is Greg, who's this and why did you page me?"
"Greg!" She said, "it's me! Oh God, you gotta help me... I'm over here and Taylor freaking Hanson is gonna die right in front of me..."
"Marcy?!" He exclaimed. "Where the hell are you? What's going on?"
"I'm at Taylor's old house, but I don't know where it is!"
"What do you mean you don't know where it is?!"
She was getting more upset by the moment. "We walked through the woods to get here! I don't know where I am and I don't know Ike's number and his house is busy... Please Greg, you gotta help me!"
"Hang on..." He said and she could hear him asking if anybody there knew where the Hanson's old house was. He spoke to her again, "we're really close, we'll be there in about 10 minutes, ok? We're walking out the door."
"Don't hang up, Greg, I'm scared."
"I won't hang up. What's the matter? What did he do to you?!"
"He didn't do anything, for Christ's sake! He just freaked out, like he's having a heart attack or something!"
"He didn't hurt you?"
"No! Something... Oh God..."
"What? Marcy!"
"I just saw this fax here," she said. "It says they caught the guy that kidnapped him at 8:48 tonight."
"And that gave him a heart attack? Is he breathing?"
"Yeah, I don't know... Just hurry!"
"I'm doing 55 here, Marcy." He stayed on the phone asking her about Taylor and what all had happened until he finally said, "I see it. Come out on the porch so I know we got the right house."
"Ok," she said, "but don't hang up." Suddenly Marcy realized, "Greg, how are you on the phone in your car, you don't have a cell phone."
"It's Kimmy's."
"Is that where you were?"
"Yeah. After you gave us the slip, we didn't feel like hanging around with all those losers so we went over to her place. Don't be all high and mighty, if it wasn't for her I wouldn't have known where to come or anything. I don't know why, but she cares about him."
"Alright, I'm out front." He handed the phone to his brother when he saw Marcy come out the front door of the last house on the block. He pulled into the driveway and she ran out to meet them. She grabbed Tim's hand and pulled him up the steps as Greg followed behind. Once inside, she raced to the office to find Taylor in the same state as when she'd left him. She stooped down in front of him again, "Taylor?"
"How long's he been like that?" Tim asked.
She looked up at him, "like, 10 minutes or something."
Greg was looking at the things on the desk. "God bless, look at this." He said.
Marcy stood up and she and Tim looked at the things he was pointing at. There were pictures of the house Taylor had been taken to, his blood on the wall, surgical instruments complete with his blood on them, his clothes with arrows pointing to the spots of blood, and the glass vial holding what had once been his most precious possession. Also, the man who'd done it and a woman with dark hair and eyes. Greg looked over at his sister and watched tears roll down her cheeks as she covered her mouth with her hand. For the first time, he thought of Taylor as a person and not just some rich, faceless jerk who had everything. He looked over at the boy in the corner and truly felt sympathy for him. Marcy went back over to him, "Taylor, please... what can I do for you?" She put her arms around him and he responded by putting his head on her shoulder and crying.
"I killed her. I killed her." He was saying, but they couldn't understand.
"Try to call his folks again Tim." Greg said to his brother.
"Marcy," Greg said, "What exactly does he mean to you? 'Cause if this is all about, 'Oh, he's so good looking, he's a rockstar, he's cool...' It ain't gonna be worth it."
She looked up at him but said nothing.
"'Cause he's got serious problems? you don't know what all that guy could have done to him, y'know? He's not going to sing you to sleep at night and he is never going to talk again. Relationships are hard enough without all that kind of stuff."
"I know all that Greg. I'm not going to sit here and tell you I'm in love with him, ok? But I do think he's a great guy, he makes me laugh, he's sweet and caring. Guys are assholes Greg, and I found me one that's not." She looked at Taylor again.
"It's still busy." Tim said to them.
Greg stooped down to look at Taylor. "Did you try slapping him? That's what they do in the movies."
"No! And you're not going to either!" She said.
"Well, I didn't want to get involved here, but Kimmy gave me something and she said sometimes it helps. I think he freaked out on her a few times too." He held out his hand and it held a small white pill.
Marcy's eyes widened. "What is it?" She asked suspiciously.
"Hey man, it's 11:00. I'm gonna turn on the news and see if there's anything about it." Tim said. "He's still news around here."
Sure enough, when he turned on the little television in the corner of the office, Tulsa's WAVE 11 news had the capture of Tom Harris as their lead story. In fact, not only did they show the man being led in hand cuffs to the court house in New York City, they also had a Live Report. There was a reporter standing in front of the very house they were in. Greg's car could be seen behind the woman. Not being able to enter the gated community where the Hansons lived now, it was as close as they could get to the family's residence.
"Shit!" Greg said and he got up and ran to the front window and looked out, there were two news crews, one in the driveway and one in the middle of the front yard.
"Damn Sam! How are we supposed to get him out of here now?!" Tim stepped into the room holding the phone near his ear. "I don't know, but if he doesn't come out of his funk soon, I think he'll be leaving in an ambulance."
Greg glared back at his brother, "Man! Don't even think about that. I'd just love to be seen on the news as the guy that was with golden boy when he snapped!"
Suddenly Tim got excited, "it's
ringing, it's ringing!"
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