Murray rushed up to my side and I knew then that it was bad. “What’s going on?” I asked, somehow able to find my voice in the thundering fear that was pounding through me. “Joe? Did something happen to Joe?”
Deacon closed his eyes for a brief second, then said, “You’re needed at the hospital, Emerald. Jimbo and Joe were out in the meadow, getting ready for the barbecue, when somebody decided to take a potshot at them. Joe was hit by one of the bullets. I don’t know how bad it is, though he was conscious when the ambulance took him away. Jimbo’s at the hospital with him now.”
Mute, unable to think except for the refrain running through my mind that Joe’s been shot, Joe’s been shot, I felt somebody press my purse into my hands as Deacon and Murray led me to the squad car, where Deacon pulled out all the stops. Sirens screaming, we were on our way to the hospital, where I would find out if Joe—the man who I could no longer imagine living without—was going to be alive for our wedding.
Three
THE AFTERNOON SUN seemed terribly out of place as we sped along to the hospital. It should be raining and stormy, dark as my mood. Deacon tried to reassure me but until I heard word from the doctor that Joe was okay, nothing in the world could help.
“The fact that he was conscious is a good thing, Emerald. It really is,” he said, maneuvering down Saddleback Street as cars pulled to the right to get out of our way. “He’ll be okay.”
“Who shot him?” I asked. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. Greg and Sandy were there when I got there. The minute I found out what happened, I took off to let you know.” He fell silent, concentrating on the road.
I stared at my hands. My left hand in particular. The brilliant-cut diamond in Black Hills gold weighed heavy on my ring finger, reminding me of just how much I had to lose. Until I met Joe, I never expected to find someone who’d ever love me the way he did. Whom I’d ever love as much as I loved him. Sure, I’d loved Roy in the beginning, but he returned it with anger and taunts, with so many strings attached that I began to believe I wasn’t worthy of love. There were a few dalliances after I left him, but nobody really special. Not until the lanky young EMT had serendipitously fallen into my life. I didn’t want to lose him. Not now. Not ever.
“He’s got to be okay, Deacon. He’s got to be okay.”
Deacon remained silent, but I could feel his concern reaching out to me, covering me like a soft comforter on a cold night.
I’D BEEN IN the hospital all too often over the past eighteen months, both for my own injuries and those of family and friends. The path of a cosmic crime-fighter didn’t run smoothly, and I was weary of the worries that attended the dubious honor.
I bolted from the car and rushed inside the moment Deacon pulled up to the entrance of the ER. As I entered the doors, my feet stopped working and I found myself paralyzed, terrified of what I might hear. Then a firm, familiar presence slipped up behind me and warm arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders. I leaned back against Jimbo’s chest, enveloped by the scent of leather and dirt and hickory smoke.
“Tell me he’s okay. For God’s sake, tell me he’s alive.” Biting my lip, I held my breath until he spoke.
“He’s alive, that much I know. I don’t think he’s in danger, O’Brien. The doctors will be out as soon as they know what’s going on. He caught a bullet in the shoulder; I don’t think he got hit any other place.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against the top of my head, much like I did when Kip was afraid. For a rough and tumble biker, he could be pretty tender. Jimbo was a good friend and I knew he wouldn’t lie to me.
I looked up at him. He looked haggard and was covered with soot and dirt. I pushed myself away, turning to examine him. Reddish splotches stained his shirt. Blood. I reached out, hesitant. “Is that—”
He glanced down. “Joe’s. Come on, let’s get you to the front desk.” He took my hand and, leading me like a little girl, he fielded our way through the bustle of nurses and patients till we stood by the front desk. “This is Joe Files’ fiancée.”
The nurse looked up from her chart and her eyes flickered with recognition. It was Wilma Velcox. She’d helped Kip when I had to bring him in for a broken arm. “Ms. O’Brien. You’re Mr. Files’ fiancée?”
“Yeah. Is he going to be okay?”
She closed the file she was holding, set it to one side, and stood. “You must be frantic. I’ll have someone come talk to you in just a moment. Sir, if you could take her over to the waiting area—”
Jimbo let out a muffled grunt. “Okay, but don’t make it too long.” He steered me over to the all too familiar sofa in the waiting room and pushed me by the shoulders until I sat down. I leaned forward, head in my hands, trying to keep it together. My mind whirled with all sorts of possibilities—most of them bad—but I knew my fear was overriding my ability to sense how Joe was doing. I tried to tune in, but couldn’t push past the panic.
“Tell me what happened. Talk to me.”
Jimbo let out a long sigh. “We were getting ready for the barbecue, we’d carried the meat down to the lake and I was working on the grill while Joe was shucking corn. I turned around . . . I dunno why, but something felt off. Just then, there was a crack, and the next thing I knew Joe was on the ground, bleeding. He had his cell phone on him and I called 911 while trying to pull one of the barrels in front of us for cover.”
I closed my eyes, imagining the scene. The lakeside area of Jimbo’s acreage was overgrown, wild and thick with cattails and long blades of canary grass. Skunk cabbage dappled the area with bright yellow flowers, and a rickety homemade dock led out over the lake to where he kept inner tubes and a canoe tied to the moorings. The meadow had been cleared and we used it for get-togethers and barbecues. I could see Joe standing there, shucking corn under the afternoon sun, and then a shot ringing out. Suddenly, the image was all too vivid and my eyes flew open.
“Was he shot more than once?”
Jimbo shook his head. “No. Whoever did it either disappeared or ran out of ammo. One shot, that’s all. I couldn’t tell if the bullet actually went in or not. I didn’t want to mess with the wound too much, so I just applied pressure where it was bleeding, and by the time the ambulance got there, I’d staunched the flow. Joe was awake.” He paused, then stumbling over his words, continued, “He told me to tell you that he loves you, O’Brien. That you’re the only woman he’s ever loved.” He stared at the floor.
At that moment, Murray and Deacon appeared at the entrance to the waiting room. Murray rushed over and settled in on my other side. I caught her glance at Jimbo over my head, but she said nothing.
Deacon motioned to Jimbo. “Now that Emerald’s here and Joe’s with the doctors, I need to get your statement.” Jimbo grunted and headed over to the other side of the room, followed by the careworn officer.
Murray took my hands in hers. “White Deer says to tell you not to worry, that Joe will be okay. She took a peek.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “Thank you, I needed to hear that. I trust her. I trust her—really, but . . .”