A sense of emptiness filled Wyatt as he watched the gurney disappear around a corner. “What?” He couldn’t comprehend what the man was saying. All he could think about was Christine. There had been no life in her eyes when she’d looked at him. He wanted to be with her.
“I’m sorry, sir, are you a relative?”
“I’m … I’m …” Who was he to her anymore? “I’m a friend. We knew each other years ago.”
“So, you’re not a relative.” The man scurried behind a desk and pulled forms out of file cabinets. “I know Maggie Norris. I’ll give her a call. She can come in and fill out the paperwork.”
Wyatt felt himself going numb as a sense of helplessness invaded his thoughts.
“Sir, why don’t you have a seat? As soon as we know something, we’ll let you know.” The man’s printer fired to life spewing out forms.
“I want to be with her.” Wyatt’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“I can appreciate that, but you are going to have to wait.”
His heart was still jackhammering in his chest from the exertion and the adrenaline. “When will they know?”
The phone rang, and the man behind the desk gave short, quick answers and then said, “All right, I’ll give Dr. Quaid a call.”
Wyatt rose to his feet. “Was that about Christine?”
The man held the phone in midair as though he were debating if he should tell Wyatt or not. “It looks like she is going to need a surgeon. We don’t have one on staff. This is only a twenty-bed facility.”
Desperation bombarded his thoughts. “How long will that take?”
“The more you interrupt me, the longer it will take.” The man’s words were forceful but calm. “I can see you are concerned about her.”
Wyatt backed down. Unable to sit still, he paced and waited and prayed. His breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal. Finally, he stumbled to the plastic waiting-room chairs and slumped down. His thoughts raced a hundred miles an hour.
What if she didn’t make it?
Christine awoke in a fog… not sure of where she was or what had happened. She opened her eyes, but shut them quickly in reaction to the bright light. As she struggled to orient herself, a strong, warm hand squeezed hers.
“Hey, sleepyhead. There you are. How are you doing?” The voice was filled with concern.
The voice was Wyatt’s. That rich tenor tone had always stirred her up inside. She turned her head, which caused pain to shoot through her shoulder. “Could you … could you … turn off those lights?”
“Sure, sure.” His warm touch faded, and a moment later, she heard clicking, and the room became darker.
The sterile smells and stiff sheets told her she was in a hospital bed. Wyatt returned, scooting the chair he’d been sitting in closer to her bed.
“How long have I been out?”
“About ten hours. They had to do some minor surgery on your shoulder … to extract some metal. And you have a concussion.”
She swallowed to produce some moisture in her mouth. “It was a bomb?”
“Yes.” Without her asking, Wyatt grabbed a cup off the tray beside her bed and placed it under her mouth. “Drink this. It’ll help. It’s just water.”
The water soothed her throat and moistened her dry mouth, bringing relief.
“Better?” He touched her forehead tenderly.
This was a side of Wyatt she had never seen before. He responded to her needs even before she voiced them.
As coherency returned, so did fear. “Eva. Where is Eva?” She lifted her head, let out an involuntary moan of pain and lay back down.
Wyatt made shushing sounds as he rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “She and her grandma just went down the hall to get something to eat. They should be back any minute. They’ll be glad to see you’ve come around.”
“Is she doing okay with seeing me like this?”
Wyatt patted her hand. “She’s handling it just fine. Your deputy has popped in a couple of times, too … not to mention half the town.”
Christine’s heart warmed. People were like that around here.
Wyatt paused. He pulled his hand away. “Christine, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I sent Agent Cranson over to do a prelim investigation of the car bomb. A similar type of bomb was used in a judge’s car down in Wyoming. The militia group we are after, the one Lansky is linked to, took credit for it and said next time they would make sure the judge was in it when it went off.”
Christine stared at the ceiling. “It doesn’t make sense that this group would set off a car bomb if they are trying to hide out at a training camp. Why would they call attention to themselves like that?”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “That’s true. We are looking into the owner of the car, trying to find a motive.”
Christine took in a shallow breath. “Whether there’s a link or not, we need to investigate. The first thing to do would be to question Randy. He was standing by the car when I yelled at him. He might have seen something.”
“You mean the kid you were running after in the parking lot? He has disappeared … which makes him look suspicious. Your deputy has put out an alert to all local law enforcement to be on the lookout for him.”
A lot had happened in ten hours. Christine winced. Slicing pain in her shoulder made any kind of movement difficult. “Randy has had some petty-thievery problems. I doubt he knows anything about bomb making. I know his mother. Soon as I am out of here, we can go over and talk to her.”
“We?”
Still resting her head on the pillow, she turned to face him. “I know you want all the dots to connect, but I am not jumping to any conclusions. If you go over there to talk to Randy’s mom alone, she’ll clam up. Let’s face it, Green, you need me, even if you are a hotshot agent.”
Wyatt grinned. “I suppose you’re right about that.” His expression grew more serious. “One good thing about the bomb—it gives us as agents a reason for being here without anyone thinking we are looking for that camp.”
Christine tensed. “How many agents got called in? Swarms of feds descending on Roosevelt won’t do anyone any good. It’ll just open up old wounds.”
“We’ve got three bomb specialists flying in, and I thought it best to use some law enforcement from a nearby county to help with the evidence gathering,” Wyatt said. “A bomb blast scares people. I think we will get the cooperation we hope for.”
“I hope so.” She’d feel better once she could get out of this hospital bed and help facilitate the interaction between agents and townspeople. “I’ll help as much as I can to ensure things go smoothly. I don’t remember much of my training about bombs. It was kind of limited, and it’s been a long time.”
“You ever regret not using all of that training?” Wyatt fingered the wrap on his forearm.
“My priorities changed.” Trying to ignore the pain radiating from her shoulder, she let out a breath. “I wanted to be on the ranch with Dustin.”
As though someone had flipped a switch, Wyatt’s jovial expression darkened. He rose to his feet and turned away. His shoulders slumped as a tense silence spiraled through the room.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me Dustin had died?”
So