I was so excited that I thought my heart might stop.” Naomi looked nearly giddy with the memory. “That very second, I cried, ‘Thank you, Lord, for answering my prayers to bring Jacob back to us!’ Then I hit the call button for the doctor.”
Michael and Reba extolled Naomi for all she’d done, from saving their son the morning before by calling for help to bringing down the curative powers of the Almighty. As they talked, Carl wrapped his arms over Reba’s and Michael’s shoulders and gathered them to him.
The Johanssons preoccupied, Max asked, “Naomi, let’s walk over a little ways and talk. I have a couple of questions.”
Naomi studied him, her face glowing with excitement. Her voice filled with a grand benevolence, she said, “Of course, Max.”
Once they’d put a little distance between them and the family, he asked: “Did Jacob say anything?”
“No,” she answered.
“Did he try to say anything?”
She shook her head.
“Did Jacob indicate anything in any way about what happened at the ranch and who was responsible?”
“No. Nothing. As I said, as soon as I thanked the heavens, I pushed the call button. I didn’t talk to him. And he made no attempt to speak.”
Just then, the doctor walked out of the room.
“Mr. and Mrs. Johansson,” he said. Michael and Reba shuffled toward the man, and Max and the others followed suit. Once surrounded, the physician explained, “We’ve given Jacob a sedative, and he’s gone back to sleep. I’ve just examined him, and I don’t see any damage to his airway other than the wound, so we’re going to take him into surgery and repair his trachea.”
“He’ll be all right?” Reba asked. “His chances are good?”
“We believe so,” the doctor said. “He was extremely lucky in the position of the cut, that it didn’t damage his vocal cords. The odds are with him. He should make a complete recovery.”
At that, Naomi let loose a small scream and fell to her knees. She clasped her palms in prayer. “Lord, thank you for this wonderful blessing,” she cried out. “Praise you for your kindness for saving Jacob and bringing him back to his family.”
Reba and Michael dropped down on their knees beside her. They shouted their gratitude to God, while Max noticed Carl amble off a short distance down the hall. Max turned to the doctor. “When will Jacob be able to communicate with us?”
“The operation will take a couple of hours,” he said. “Jacob probably won’t be able to talk for a while, a day or two, but you should be able to get some type of response from him, a nod of the head or finger signs, he can write things down for you, late this afternoon.”
“That’s good, very good,” Max said, feeling his first sense of hope about the case’s prospects.
“I know Jacob’s injuries look terrible, but the truth is that this isn’t a tough operation,” the doctor explained. “If Jacob swallows well enough, he may be released as soon as tomorrow or the day after.”
At that, Max thanked the physician and turned to where Carl had walked, intent on striking up a conversation. Yet when he gazed down the hallway, Max saw only a solitary nurse pushing a medicine cart.
Carl was gone.
Twenty-Four
The assembly of protesters in front of my office had grown while I worked on the case. As I drove out of the parking lot, I counted eleven. A few men but mainly women with homemade signs hefted high over their heads, calling out to passersby. As I watched, a car pulled over and rolled down a window, the family inside apparently asking what the hubbub was about. I wondered what the demonstrators said, what they thought they knew about me that made them decide that I was unfit to be the town’s police chief.
A short drive, and I arrived at the MRJ ranch. As I climbed out of the Suburban, a male bison lumbered toward me. Its massive body ground to a halt at the fence. I walked over, curious, and stared into its dark, blank eyes, wondering what it knew, what it saw. As if it could read my thoughts, the bull threw its massive head back and released a long, deep bellow that vibrated the air surrounding me and sent a shiver through my body.
Outside the house, little remained that hinted at the horror that had transpired there.
The evidence markers had all been removed, the bloody sheet, every telltale sign gone. The vultures had moved on, undoubtedly looking for other carrion.