The bottom dropped out of Seth’s gut. Bruce doesn’t know. Seth studied the bed rail for a few seconds, trying to find the words to soften the blow.
“What happened?” Fear lit Bruce’s eyes. “What happened to Amber?”
Seth sighed.
“No.” Bruce focused on Seth’s eyes. “No.”
Seth put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Let me get Carly or your mom in here.”
“No. Just say it.” Bruce stared at the ceiling.
“She’s dead.” Sorrow filled Seth as he said the words.
Bruce’s voice went flat. “Did she die in the accident? Was it my fault?”
“No. She was murdered.”
Shock and pain etched Bruce’s face. “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“How?” Bruce squeezed his eyes shut.
Seth didn’t want to give him the details, but he knew that a victim’s loved ones often needed to know. “She was strangled.”
A choking sound slipped from Bruce’s lips. “No.”
Seth put a hand on his forearm. “What do you remember about last night?”
“Not much.” Bruce licked his lips. “We finished our set, packed up, and left the bar. Me and Amber were driving toward her place.” His brow furrowed. “I remember high beams coming up fast in my rearview mirror. Then we got hit from behind.” Bruce swallowed. “I didn’t expect it, and I didn’t react. The road was slick, and the van skidded. We hit the trees.” His voice went raspy. “That’s all I remember until I woke up in the van. When I didn’t see her in the van, I thought maybe she’d crawled out and gone for help. I tried to get out to look for her, but I could barely move.”
“You have no idea who hit you or why?”
“No.” Bruce took in a shaky breath. “She can’t be gone. How’d she get out of the van?”
“We don’t know.”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know,” Seth said.
“Where’s the baby?”
“Your mom took her for now. Carly’s looking for family.”
A nurse came into the room and injected clear liquid into Bruce’s IV.
“Tell Carly that Amber Lynn didn’t want the baby anywhere near her stepfather,” Bruce said. “And Travis threatened Amber Lynn. Find him.”
Seth nodded. “Okay.”
Bruce’s eyes turned glassy. He rested a forearm across his face. “This isn’t right.”
When Bruce had brought Amber Lynn and her child to the first family dinner, Carly had said maybe her brother had found the one. Watching the grief play across Bruce’s face, Seth hoped that hadn’t been true. The thought of losing Carly bored a 12-gauge-size hole straight through his heart.
Bruce drifted into a medicated sleep, but Seth still promised, “I won’t stop until I catch the man responsible.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Seth caught a ride back to his office at the sheriff’s department. On the way he took a call from the medical examiner. Hank had finished the autopsy as promised. When Seth reached the station, he stopped in the employees’ lounge and poured a cup of coffee, which smelled like battery acid. Hoping for a miracle, he dumped a load of powdered creamer into the black sludge and stirred. The mass of white lumps didn’t look promising.
The Special Investigations Unit had space upstairs, but Seth needed to see Phil, who’d spent the afternoon reviewing the surveillance tapes from Fletcher’s. He found the deputy at his desk downstairs. His short, blond hair stood up in tufts, his uniform was wrinkled, and his clip-on tie was crooked. Phil needed food, sleep, and a shower, just like Seth did.
“Aren’t you off duty yet?” Seth tossed his jacket over an empty chair.
“The sheriff allowed for overtime this week.” Still focused on his computer screen, Phil clicked the mouse. “With accidents all over the place, we don’t have the manpower to handle crime and this weather.”
Seth checked his text messages. Carly had promised to text him before she took her mother home, and Seth worried about them driving back to Solitude on slippery roads in the dark. Despite his promise to Bruce, Seth needed to make it home at some point that night.
Both he and Carly were working hard at improving their balance of work and family. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Seth was supposed to be off so they could spend time as a family. They’d promised Brianna they’d both take her to see Santa at the firehouse. Carly wouldn’t argue if he needed to back out. There were times when her job as a social worker demanded long hours too, but that wasn’t the point. Both of their careers dealt with life-or-death situations, and they both struggled with walking away at the end of the day.
But he’d give the case a few more hours tonight.
He perched on the desk behind Phil and watched his monitor over his shoulder. “I appreciate the help.”