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“Let me just grab my purse and I’ll come with you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I run back to the room, grab my phone, Hunter’s phone, my purse, and shoes, and then run back to where the EMTs already have Hunter on a gurney, lying down, his neck in a brace.
“He’s not conscious,” I’m told as I walk quickly next to him, holding his hand. “Someone beat him up pretty good.”
“Jesus.”
Everything moves quickly yet in slow motion at the same time. We’re rushed down the elevator and out to the waiting ambulance. Paparazzi are already waiting, their cameras up, photos snapping, but we’re quickly hidden in the ambulance. With sirens blaring, we zoom toward the hospital.
The medics start an IV in Hunter’s arm and hook him up to other wires and monitors.
“His pulse is strong,” someone says. “Good blood pressure.”
“He’s going to have a hell of a concussion,” someone else says, and I feel my stomach lurch.
The doctors warned him that he might not survive another concussion.
Oh, God.
I cling to Hunter’s hand and pray, with all my might, that he makes it through this. That he regains consciousness and doesn’t have any trauma from this injury.
What did they do to him? And who?
I have so many damn questions.
We arrive at the hospital in minutes and are rushed through the ambulance entrance to a small room where doctors and nurses are waiting.
“You can stay,” I’m told briskly as they immediately get to work evaluating him, “but I need you to stand back out of the way.”
I nod and huddle back in the corner, watching as they evaluate Hunter thoroughly.
“Ma’am?”
I turn to see a policewoman gesturing for me to come with her.
“While they do their thing, I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Of course.” I follow her to a chair and sit next to her. “I don’t know how much I can help.”
“You’d be surprised,” she says. “Tell me what you know.”
I shake my head. “We got married this afternoon. We came back to the hotel to call our families and then got a call from the front desk. They said they had something downstairs for Hunter, and that he was to come get it right away. So, he did. That’s the last time I saw him. The next thing I knew, they called to say that he was in the hallway, hurt. And then the ambulance arrived.”
She nods, taking notes.
“Who would do this?” I demand. “He has a fight tomorrow night.”
“We have a suspect,” she says. “There is a security camera in each of the hallways and elevators in the hotel. We caught it on film.”
“Holy shit, that was fast.”
“He’s Hunter Meyers,” she reminds me. “The hotel was very cooperative. We don’t think it was actually the front desk that called up to lure him down. We’re still investigating, but I’ll keep you posted. Here’s my card. Feel free to call me if you remember anything else, or if you have questions.”
“Thank you, Detective Perry,” I reply, reading the name on the card. “Who is the suspect?”
She presses her lips together. “I can’t tell you that until after we’ve made an arrest. I have men coming to stand guard. I don’t want him—either of you, really—unprotected until we wrap this up. Which should happen in the next few hours.”
“That’s fast, too.”
“This wasn’t the crime of the century,” she says. “I’ll be in touch. Oh, and congratulations.”
I hurry back to Hunter’s room, just in time for the doctor to finish typing in his computer and look up at me.
“Are you family?”
“I’m his wife,” I reply as I walk on stiff legs to Hunter’s bedside. His head wounds have been dressed. He has bruises on his face and neck. Even on his arms. “What in the hell happened here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. From what I can tell, it looks like he was caught off guard and hit from behind. The head wound would have happened first. Then, when he was down, they kicked him around some more and did some damage to his face. The good news is, nothing is broken. He must have a damn hard head.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” I link my fingers with Hunter’s. “What’s the bad news?”
“I have previous records here for your husband. He’s been seen in the same health system many times, mostly for head trauma due to his profession.”
I nod and bite my lip.
“Even though there are no skull breaks, he suffered a pretty severe concussion.”
“And his head was already fragile,” I finish for him.
“It is. If he regains consciousness today, that’ll be a very good sign. Unfortunately, the brain is still very much a mystery. Recovery, healing, is going to be up to him. But he’s a fighter, and his vitals are strong. My money’s on him. We’re preparing a room for him upstairs, and we’ll move him as soon as it’s ready.”
