Page 11 of Deadly Target (Rocky Mountain Courage 2)

FOUR

Nathan remained in Dad’s room with his mother and encouraged her to eat the tuna sandwich he’d grabbed from the cafeteria. She refused to leave Dad’s side. If she still felt so strongly for him, Nathan couldn’t fathom why his parents had divorced. Again, his thoughts went to Dad and his call to Celia. Maybe the blame was on Dad.

Still, Nathan supposed some connections never died, and maybe that explained Erin’s appearance in the waiting room last night. She’d rushed into the room and then stopped at the sight of him holding Mom. He was distraught over the events and was trying to remain strong for his mother, but he’d seen the concern in Erin’s eyes. No matter they’d broken up five years ago. No matter the way she’d left him when she left Montana. She’d been there for him last night, however briefly.

He scraped a hand across his face. He wasn’t coherent enough to think through the implications or how any of it mattered. Staring at his own tuna sandwich, he realized he wasn’t hungry, but maybe if he ate, then Mom would eat too. Several family friends had come by to visit, and she’d had to go out and speak to them since Dad wasn’t yet out of the ICU, but she always returned and sat next to him.

For Mom’s sake, Nathan finished off the sandwich that tasted like cardboard. “You need to eat and keep up your strength for Dad.”

The words seemed surreal since Mom and Dad hadn’t been together for twenty-plus years. He moved to stand by the bed and stared at his father’s black-and-blue face, most of his head wrapped from the surgery to remove the bullet. A deep ache clawed his insides, and he couldn’t shake it. He couldn’t stand to see his father like this. How long had he been praying for the man? Finally, he got the chance to spend a few moments fishing with him at the river.

Were those the last moments he would ever have with his father? Was that a gift from God? He should be grateful, thankful he got to talk to his father. Go fishing with him, of all things, one last time.

Please, God, don’t let that be our last time together. Please let him survive.

It seemed impossible that Dad had lived long enough for the helicopter to swoop in, rescuers to stabilize him in the hoist and lift him, then fly him to Bozeman.

A miracle, really. Still, Nathan didn’t understand any of it. Why had this happened?

His cell buzzed, and he glanced at it. Henry. His boss, Sheriff Gibson. I’m in the waiting room. Are you able to see me?

Henry was thoughtful to come all the way here to check on Dad. Nathan worked to pull his thoughts together. He’d given his statement to the newest detective, Trevor West, who’d been assigned to investigate.

What would Nathan say to Henry? Dad had told him not to share about their conversation regarding the cold case—the reason Dad had come back to Big Rapids.

“Lives are at stake.”

Dad’s or someone else’s?

What do I say, Lord? How much do I tell him? Or how little?How did being a detective suddenly become impossible?He scraped both hands through his hair, exhaustion and indecision pressing down on him.

“Mom, the sheriff’s out in the waiting room,” Nathan said. “Will you be okay?”

“Sure. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nathan exited the ICU area. They would move Dad to another room soon, where he might shrivel away for years if he never woke up.

Nathan found the waiting area and spotted the sheriff. A few others occupied the room—a middle-aged couple spoke in low tones. An older man, maybe in his seventies, sat in a chair alone and hung his head.

Nathan slowly approached Henry. Hands in his pockets, Henry stared out the window. Nathan joined him, looking out at the parking lot, the town of Bozeman, and the mountains beyond. Henry angled his head to Nathan, concern evident in his features as he thrust out his hand. When Nathan took it, Henry pulled him into a bear hug. Since Nathan joined the county sheriff’s department, Henry had been a mentor to him. Nathan did his best every day to both please the Lord and avoid disappointing this man.

Henry leveled his gaze on Nathan. “How is he?”

Henry had been friends with Dad back in the day when they both worked as detectives for Grayback County. Dad had moved on to bigger-city investigations, and Henry had moved up to become county sheriff. Nathan’s throat grew tight. He shrugged, searching for the words, forcing his mouth to move past the painful emotions. “The doctor took the bullet from his head. Swelling is expected. He’ll wake up when he wakes up. More than that, I don’t know.”

Henry remained quiet for a few moments as if he, too, were trying to find the right words. Then he said, “And what about you? How are you doing?”

Nathan shrugged. “I’m here.”

“You want to talk about it?”

He didn’t know where to begin and he might explode trying to, so he shook his head.

“Anything I can do, you let me know. In the meantime, we’ll find him, Nathan. You leave the investigation to us. We’ll find the man who shot your dad.”

Nathan was glad for the opening. “At least let me ride shotgun. Be part of it. Something. I can’t just sit here and do nothing while a shooter is out there.”

“Doing nothing is exactly what you’re going to do. You can’t expect me to let you get involved. You can’t think clearly after an incident like this, especially since it involved your father. You were there, and you’re still processing through the shock of it. I can see that well enough in your eyes.” Henry gripped Nathan’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t you worry. I won’t let this go. He might be your father, but he’s also my friend.”

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