Blood Trail - C. J. Box [52]
Chris Urman was in custody in the sheriff’s department, but Joe expected him to be released quickly. Joe told Deputy Reed that Urman had simply defended himself, firing only after being surprised by Lothar and being fired upon. Joe knew Urman felt horrible about what had happened, and had dismissed any suspicion he may have had of him on their trek back to the pickup to find Robey and Conway. Joe’s pickup was still on the mountain, shot up and bloodstained. He’d need to send a tow truck for it. Another year, another damaged truck.
Speer leaned over and put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Go home, Joe. Get cleaned up. Get some rest. There’s nothing you can do here.”
Joe shook his head. “I need to be here when Nancy comes. I need to apologize to her for putting Robey in that situation.”
Speer shook his head sadly, gave Joe’s shoulder a squeeze, and went back in the direction of his little morgue.
NANCY HERSIG looked frantic when she pushed through the hallway doors. Nancy had always been meticulous in her look and dress, always composed and calm, comfortable with herself. Given to jeans, sweaters, blazers, and pearls, Nancy Hersig was the queen of volunteer causes in Twelve Sleep County, heading up the United Way, the hospital foundation, the homeless shelter. But Joe saw a different Nancy coming down the hall. Her eyes were red-rimmed and looked like angry red headlights. Her makeup was smeared and the right side of her hair was wild, the result of raking it back with her fingers on the drive from Casper to Saddlestring.
Joe stood up and she came to him, letting him hold her. She began to weep in hard, racking sobs that had to hurt, he thought.
“I thought I was cried out,” she said, her teeth chattering as she took a breath, “but I guess I’m not.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
“What have you heard, Joe?”
“He’s in surgery,” he said, hoping a doctor would burst through the doors at exactly that moment with good news.
“What did the doctors say?”
Joe sighed. “That he’s hurt real bad, Nancy.”
“He’s tough,” she said, “he’s always been tough. He used to rodeo, you know.”
“I know.”
“I wish I could see him and talk him through this.”
Joe didn’t know what to say, and simply held her. She regained her composure and gently pushed herself away, dabbing at her face with her sleeve. “God, I’m a mess,” she said, her eyes sweeping across his face and lingering on the splotches of dried blood on his Wranglers.
“Is that Robey’s?” she asked, pointing.
“We did all we could to stop the bleeding,” Joe said, “but . . .”
She nodded and held up a hand, as if to say, Don’t tell me.
“Nancy,” Joe said, struggling to find the right words, “I’m just so damned sorry this happened. It didn’t have to. I never should have left him last night. I called for backup but it didn’t get there in time.”
Again, she shook her head. Don’t tell me.
“I hate not being able to do something,” he said, fighting back a surprising urge to cry.
“Oh, you can do something,” she said, suddenly defiant. “You can find the man who did this and put him down like a dog.”
The vehemence in her words took him aback.
He said, “I will, Nancy. I’ll find him.”
“And put him down,” she repeated.
“And put him down,” he said.
She turned on her heel away from Joe and wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, Joe. I don’t know whether to go get our kids and bring them here, or pray, or what. Maybe I should bust through those doors so I can see him.
“Joe,” she said, looking over her shoulder, “there’s no manual for this.”
They both jumped when the ICU doors clicked open.
And they knew instantly from the look on the surgeon’s face