“Unconscious.” Seth glanced at his wife. “He had a space blanket in the van and was aware enough to use it at some point.”
“My dad taught us to carry emergency supplies at all times.” James sighed. “There are times I feel like he’s still with us.”
“He left a pretty strong legacy,” Seth said. “Tonight it might have saved Bruce’s life.”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and Seth turned to see the other two members of Bruce’s band suited up in their winter wear.
“Hey, man. We got your messages,” said Psych, the drummer.
Seth steered them outside. “Did anything weird happen last night?”
The bass player, Spencer, pushed his black cap back on his head. “Not that I noticed. We played. We got paid and left. The crowd was light. No one even threw any bottles at us last night, but then, men are usually more attentive when Amber Lynn sings with us—sang with us,” he corrected with a frown. “I still can’t believe she’s dead. She was awesome.”
“What a voice.” Psych nodded solemnly.
“Did anybody pay particular attention to her?” Seth asked.
“As I said before, the crowd was pretty well behaved,” Spencer said.
“Wait.” Psych slapped his friend on the shoulder. “On our last break, I went to take a leak and ran into Bruce standing guard at the ladies’ room. He was waiting for Amber Lynn. He said that Bob had cornered her in the hallway on her last trip. Bruce was plenty mad.”
“Bob Fletcher?” Seth asked. Anger burned straight up into his chest.
Psych’s head bobbed like a hula dancer on a dashboard. “Bob is a total douche.”
“Did anyone else give Amber Lynn a hard time?” Seth asked.
“Her ex was there.” Psych blew a ragged lock of hair off his forehead. “But he’s always an asshole, so there’s nothing new there.”
Bob had cornered Amber Lynn, Travis had been at the bar, and Seth was damned tired of people lying to him.
Neither of the boys could remember anything else unusual about the night. Seth thanked them and stepped aside to call Phil. He relayed Psych’s statement.
“I’ll be sure to pay close attention to the time stamp on the surveillance video from the bar,” Phil said. “The office door also opens onto that hallway, and there’s a camera in the corner. I’ll review that file again more carefully.”
“Thanks, Phil. I have to go,” Seth said as a doctor who looked to be about twelve years old entered the room. Seth didn’t recognize him, and as a county deputy, he spent a fair amount of time talking to people in the ER.
Seth ended the call.
The doctor approached Patsy. “Mrs. Taylor?”
She stood, her legs wavering. Stevie and Carly rose with her and supported her on both sides. James took his place behind them. The Taylors were the picture of solidarity. Seth had once envied their closeness. Now he moved forward to be part of the inner circle. He wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders, and took an odd pleasure in the way she leaned on him. He’d never fully be able to eradicate the protectiveness he felt toward his wife. The primitive instinct was lodged deep in his soul. The best he could hope for was to tame it and learn to be a better communicator.
The doctor pushed wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and met Patsy’s gaze. “He’s going to be all right.”
A collective exhalation eased the tension in the room.
“Miraculously, none of his injuries are that serious. He has a concussion, a broken leg, and hypothermia. We’ll keep him for a day or two, but I don’t see why he wouldn’t be home for Christmas day. I’ll have the nurse come get you the minute you can see him.” The doctor smiled at Patsy.
“Doc,” Seth said. “I’m Detective Harding, Rogue County special investigator. I need to talk to Bruce. Is he awake?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes. Let me see if he’s done being stitched.”
Seth hugged his wife. “I’m going to talk to Bruce, then I have to go back to work. Are you all right with that?”
Carly nodded. “Go find the bastard who killed Amber Lynn.”
“That’s my intention. I love you,” Seth said.
He kissed his wife on the mouth, then followed the doctor to the ER cubicle.
“He’s done.” The doctor held the curtain open for Seth. “Detective Harding is here to see you.”
Bruce lay on a gurney. His face was bruised and swollen, and a piece of gauze was taped over the gash on his forehead. His left leg was elevated on pillows and encased in a dark-blue cast starting just below his knee. Except for his broken leg, he was piled in white thermal blankets. An IV line disappeared under them. He blinked at Seth and reached for a plastic cup of water on the rolling tray. Seth helped him direct the straw between his cracked lips.
“Good thing you had that space blanket.”
“I have my dad to thank for that.” Bruce smiled. “Where’s Amber? I can’t get an answer out of the nurses.”