Page 2 of Montana Mystery

Dr. Godin nodded, folding his hands behind his back. “Yes. Of course I wouldn’t be doing my job if I promised you one hundred percent. But right now, I’m confident that he’s out of the woods.”

Good. That was good.

“Once he’s settled a bit more, we’ll move him out of the emergency room. And of course, we’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you have any questions?” He checked the chart at the end of the bed, glancing through notes. “Anything else I can answer?”

There were a hundred questions running through my mind. Unfortunately, Dr. Godin wasn’t the one who could answer them. Only Brandon could do that, and it looked like I wasn’t going to be able to talk to him for a while.

He wasn’t going to die, at least not yet, and the rest we needed to wait on. “Just one. For the physical injuries, how long do you think he’ll have to stay?”

“That I don’t know,” he said. “Conservatively? A week. Easily more if he doesn’t heal quickly.”

“Then no, I don’t have any more questions.”

He slipped the chart back into its place at the end of the bed. “All right. If you have any more, feel free to ask.”

“Thank you.”

There was no fanfare with his exit. Just a return to the filled silence that defined hospitals. Brandon’s heart monitor beeped, low and even. Outside there was the squeak of shoes on floors and the occasional call or overhead announcement. In here, it was way too quiet.

Now that I was over the shock, I noticed more details. The tubes coming out of Brandon’s mouth and the ones in his nose, adding oxygen. The drips into his arms and a few other wires that were attached to him in places covered by gown and blankets.

“Brandon, what the hell did you do?” I asked more to the air than my brother, who clearly wasn’t talking.

A nurse appeared with a new IV bag and quickly switched it out, flashing a smile at me. “You’re his sister?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad they got ahold of you.”

The sentiment made sense, but it didn’t feel right. Glad you’re here to see your baby brother look like he was run over by a semi thirty-seven times. Congrats!

“What’s in there?” I asked hesitantly.

“It’s keeping him sedated,” she said. “We need to—”

“The doctor told me.” I cut her off. I couldn’t hear someone else say that out loud right now.

She smiled again, but this time it was tighter. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Once I was alone again, I melted into the chair and stared at the ceiling.

Was this really happening? Maybe this was the worst stress dream of all time.

I hated the feeling of inevitability to all this. This shadow had been haunting him ever since he’d come back from overseas. The brightness in his eyes was missing and the old habits he’d left to avoid were back in full force.

But he’d been getting better. He’d told me he’d gotten a job, and there’d been no signs that he was in trouble. Most nights he was home at a decent hour. He was paying his portion of the rent on time. I’d even seen him smile occasionally.

So why this? Why now? What could I have missed and what had Brandon obviously been hiding? The way he looked was too brutal—too vicious—to be some random act of violence.

Still, even with his struggling after deployment, I hadn’t expected this.

Across the room, a plastic bag sat on another chair. Clothes. I doubted I’d find anything in there, but maybe I could get some idea of what he’d been doing when all of this happened.

I took a deep, steadying breath before I opened the bag. These were not washed clothes. They were stiff with dried blood and tattered from either injuries or perhaps the bites on his arms.

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