Page 63 of Redeeming Melodies

"Any word from Smith?" Caleb's voice cut through my spiral. His arm tightened around Liam as he spoke, protective even here.

"Still at Nina's." My own voice sounded wrong in the sterile air. "Reviewing security footage, interviewing staff. He's thorough."

"Good." The word carried steel. Caleb might play the steady rancher, but right then he looked ready for war.

"Jake?" Liam shifted slightly, eyes red but determined. "That note we found. You think-"

"We'll handle it." The sheriff voice came automatically, even though my gut churned. The note had been specific - a warning about keeping quiet. But quiet about what?

After a while we heard the doctor's footsteps echo down the sterile hallway before he appeared - Dr. Baker, who'd patched up half the town over the years. His face gave nothing away, that professional mask all doctors learn. My gut clenched as he approached.

"Sheriff Thompson." He nodded to me first - small town courtesy - then turned to Liam and Caleb. “He is out of surgery."

Liam's breath hitched. Caleb's arm tightened around him.

"The blunt force trauma to his temporal lobe caused significant swelling." Baker didn't sugar-coat it - never had. "We've placed him in a medically induced coma to help reduce the intracranial pressure."

Medical words. Clinical terms for someone beating Jimmy's head in with a tire iron.

"The skull fracture extends from his left temporal bone to the base." Baker gestured to his own head, mapping out the damage. "We've inserted an intracranial pressure monitor to track any changes. Right now, the numbers are higher than we'd like."

"But he'll wake up?" Liam's voice cracked on the question.

Baker’s hesitation lasted a heartbeat too long. "Once the swelling reduces, we'll begin weaning him off the sedatives. But with head injuries this severe, we have to be prepared for potential complications."

"What kind of complications?" The words scraped my throat raw.

"Memory loss is common with temporal lobe injuries." Again, that clinical tone. "Speech problems, difficulty processing emotions, personality changes. We won't know the full extent until he regains consciousness."

Personality changes. The thought of Jimmy - steady, wise Jimmy - waking up different sent ice through my veins.

"He also sustained multiple rib fractures." Baker continued, consulting his clipboard. "Three on the left side, two on the right. One punctured his lung, but we've repaired the damage. His kidney shows signs of trauma, but we're monitoring that closely."

Someone had worked him over systematically. This wasn't random violence or a bar fight gone wrong. This was fucking torture.

"Can we see him?" Caleb asked, his usual calm voice tight with anger.

"Briefly. He's in ICU, heavily sedated. Two visitors at a time, five minutes maximum." Baker’s expression softened slightly. "Talk to him. Some patients respond to familiar voices, even in coma."

Liam and Caleb stood together, supporting each other. I stayed back - they needed this moment more than I did. But my mind was already racing, piecing together a timeline.

Jimmy at Nina's bar. A stranger. An intense conversation. Then this.

"Sheriff?" Baker caught my arm as I turned to leave. "The damage pattern - someone knew what they were doing. This wasn't amateur work."

No shit. Every blow had been calculated, designed to cause maximum pain without being immediately fatal.

"Thanks, Doc." I managed to keep my voice steady. "Keep me updated on any changes?"

He nodded, already turning toward his next patient. Just another night in the emergency room for him. Just another broken body to fix.

But not for me. Not for our town.

Someone had tried to silence Jimmy. Had damn near killed him to keep whatever secret he knew buried.

They'd picked the wrong fucking town to mess with.

The station feltdifferent at night. Emptier, somehow. Like all the day's lies and secrets settled into the corners once everyone had gone home. The overhead lights buzzed - needed to get maintenance to fix that - but I barely noticed anymore. Too focused on the statements spread across my desk, each one a piece of a puzzle I couldn't quite solve.

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