Joe shook his head. “I can’t think of anybody who might be that mad at me. I’m in the business of saving lives, not making them miserable.”
I had to speak up. “I know somebody who’s mad at you, Joe. I hate to even mention it—but maybe . . .”
“Who?” Deacon looked at me, as Murray and Jimbo moved closer.
I glanced up at Murray. “Roy. He was drunk last night, but he wasn’t incoherent. He threatened to ruin our wedding. You all heard him.” Once the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. What if I was right? But surely Roy wasn’t capable of murder. Or was he? I didn’t want to believe he could possibly pick up a gun and deliberately shoot someone but then again, I’d been on the receiving end of his fist several times and I knew he wasn’t above taking his anger out on anybody who happened to be within punching range. Was the leap so far from a fist to a gun?
Murray’s eyes grew wide. “Shit, you’re right. Deacon, I want you to talk to Greg. I had him find out where Roy is staying. I sent him over to take Roy’s car keys back and tell him to watch himself. Ask Greg for the address and if Roy’s still there, tell him to stay put. We can’t rule him out until we investigate this further.” She turned to me. “Would Roy have known about the barbecue?”
I shrugged. “Kip might have told him. He told him about the party. And it’s not that hard in this little town to find out what’s going on.”
Just then, the door opened and a nurse walked in. She was carrying a bag with a bloodstained shirt in it. “The doctor wanted me to ask you if you’ll be needing Mr. Files’ shirt for evidence?”
Murray glanced at it, then did a double take. “Jimmy,” she said to Jimbo, “that’s your shirt. I gave that to you for Christmas.”
I peered at the Hawaiian print and frowned. “She’s right. I don’t think you own a shirt like that, do you, Joe?”
Joe shook his head. “No, but when I was mixing up the barbecue sauce, I spilled it all over myself and had to borrow a shirt from Jimbo. My own shirt’s sitting on his kitchen counter.”
Deacon took the bag. “We’ll just keep this as evidence.” He jotted down a few more notes, tucked his notepad away, and slipped on his hat. “I think I’ve got everything I need. Okay, I’m heading out. I’ll talk to Greg and Sandy, see if they found the bullet. Then we’ll go round up Roy and see what he’s been up to.”
“Let me know what you find out. I’ll be home this evening,” Murray told him. He waved and disappeared down the hall. She watched until he was gone, then returned to the room.
I sat beside Joe, parked on the edge of his bed, holding his hand. The thought that he might have died if he hadn’t turned to the side—exactly at the precise moment needed—ricocheted through me as surely as any bullet. One fraction of movement, one inch to the right, and it could have been all over. I stared at the snow white sheets, thinking how sterile they looked, and how clinical. I wanted to take him home, to tuck him into bed and take care of him till he was healed. But the hospital was the safest place for him right now, and spending one night alone was a small price to pay for peace of mind.
Joe sighed. I could tell he was getting tired. “Do you want us to leave so you can get some rest?”
He adjusted himself against the pillows and winced again. “No, not really, but I am tired. I just can’t figure out why somebody would deliberately shoot me. It had to be an accident. I can’t believe that I was the target.”
“People are strange,” I murmured. “Their actions don’t always make sense.” But inside, somewhere deep inside, I knew that the shot had been deliberate. For some reason, Joe had ended up with a big fat target sign painted on his chest, and it was only luck that had kept him alive. “You sleep now. I have to go home to the kids, but I’ll tell the nurse to call if you need me.”
Murray and Jimbo waved and slipped into the hall to give us some privacy. I leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on Joe’s lips. He started to reach up, to open his arms, but then stopped and moaned. The nurse entered the room at that point and shooed me toward the door.
“Your young man needs his rest,” she said. “If you phone tomorrow around ten, we’ll be able to tell you whether or not the doctor will be releasing him.”
“What medications is he on?” I asked, watching as she prepared a shot.
“We gave him a broad-spectrum antibiotic to fight any impending infection and a pain reliever. He’ll remain on an IV drip through the night, to make sure he’s fully hydrated.” She held up the syringe. “This is a mild sedative. The doctor wants him to get plenty of sleep and this will put him out for the night.”
As she prepared his arm for the injection, I blew him another kiss and then reluctantly slipped out the door to join Jimbo and Murray. We stood in the hall for a moment. “I need a ride home,” I said. “I came with Deacon.”
“Actually, so do I. I rode in the ambulance with Joe.” Jimbo shook his head. “I hope nobody went out to my place expecting dinner. There wasn’t exactly time to leave a note.”
“Sandy and Greg would have told them what happened,” Murray said. “But they wouldn’t be able to provide a status on Joe’s condition. If anybody showed up, they’re likely to be mighty worried by now.”
“Can you drop me off at home before you head to the station, Mur?” We headed toward the exit. “I need to make sure the kids are all right and defuse the situation with my folks. This is so not going well. They want a nice, quiet life for their grandchildren and so far, I haven’t measured up in that regard.”
With a laugh, Murray wrapped her arm around my waist. “Don’t sweat it, Emerald. Tell them that you get bored with quiet. Tell them that this is quiet for you! Tell them that . . . that you’re doing the best you can.”
002
MURRAY AND JIMBO dropped me off, promising to call with any developments as soon as they heard about them. I steeled myself, expecting to find my parents, Grandma M., and Rose all waiting to pounce, and I dreaded the round of questions that was sure to follow. And to top it off, I had to call Joe’s brother and let him know what was going down. As I trudged up the porch steps, I let out a long, slow breath. Might as well get it over with.
To my surprise, only Harlow, James, and my children were waiting for me. “Where is everybody?”
Harlow grinned. “I figured you wouldn’t be up to facing all those questions so I told everybody to go back to the hotel. They didn’t want to, but James and Randa backed me up. We cleared the house out and I brought the kids back here.”
I dropped onto the sofa, relieved. “Thank you. Thank you more than I can say.” Just then, Kip and Randa rushed in, worried looks creasing their faces. I opened my arms and they dove onto the sofa, curling up on either side of me. I held them for a moment, then explained what had happened.