She collected herself, looking dazed. “No. I don’t think so. The trauma team had to stabilize them—it was crazy. They wouldn’t let me see Bobby Joe. Your mother was in this room. I stayed with her until they took her away.”

“Was she conscious?”

“Yes. And able to talk. She may have broken her spine. She couldn’t feel her legs. But apparently she’s better off than Bobby Joe. He was in the next room. I only know what I could hear through the walls.”

The late hour and start of the weekend had filled the ER to capacity. Moans and drunken yells were audible. Some had to be suffering in silence. The others made up for it.

A brawny male nurse walked by fast and stopped in his tracks when he saw Parr. “My friend, I don’t know who you are, but you can’t just blow past the admitting desk and roam around this hospital.”

“Gee whiz. I didn’t sign the clipboard. Sorry about that.”

Parr’s sarcasm could be a prelude to a totally irrational fight. Mary Beth intervened.

“It’s all right, Wayne. He was looking for me. He’s Alma Weston’s son and Bobby Joe’s older brother.”

The nurse sized up Parr. “Oh. I didn’t know. Mr. Weston, until your mother and brother are admitted to their rooms and the attending doctors give the okay for visitors, this is as far as you go. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” Parr growled.

The brawny nurse ignored his belligerence, looking to Mary Beth as if he assumed she could control Parr.

“Miss Caine, I’ll be back as soon as I know more about your fiancé. Mr. Weston, I can tell you right now that your mother is scheduled for a CAT scan immediately.”

“Thank you. And hey. Next time I’ll sign.” Parr sucked it up and apologized to the nurse.

“Do that. The rules are for everyone’s safety. We get a lot of crazy people in here, especially on Friday nights.”

“I understand,” he muttered. The man left them alone.

Parr sat down next to Mary Beth, enfolding her hand in his. He had to be devastated, but she could feel the same warm strength flowing from him that she’d sensed from the beginning. Her fear lessened, but it didn’t go away entirely.

“Was Bobby Joe drunk?” Parr asked bluntly.

“Alma swore he wasn’t.”

“She’s his mother. Our mother. If she got hurt because he was careless—”

“It’s not like he made a statement. The cops were here but the doctors wouldn’t let them get near him. He came in unconscious.”

“Must have been chaos.”

She nodded wearily. “It was. I did hear someone say his blood alcohol level was normal. That’s not the issue, Parr. He has a head injury. A bad one. Apparently there’s no telling at this point how bad it is.”