Byron turned left behind Deputy Knight’s car. They entered what appeared to be a compound of mismatched structures, some pole sheds, and brick-and-mortar buildings. The sheriff’s office was housed in a redbrick building that looked to be from the thirties or older. Deputy Smythe and Deputy Knight pulled into the employee lot, and Byron parked in front of the building. He and Tara waited outside their car for the deputies to come around to the front entrance.
“Right this way, folks.” Deputy Smythe held open the door as Byron and Tara passed through. “We’ll go down this hallway to the second room on the right.”
They entered a room with a small table and four chairs. On the wall was the one-way glass mirror that was in every interrogation room Byron had ever seen on TV. The corner near the ceiling held a wall-mounted camera with a red light flashing continuously.
Byron and Tara were offered seats and bottles of water. They thanked the deputies for both.
The deputies dropped down in the seats across from the couple but made sure not to block the mirror since the sheriff, Clay Burke, said he might watch the interview from the observation room.
Deputy Smythe began. “First, I’d like both of you to state your name, address, and affiliation with each other, and then we’ll start from the beginning before you came across that young lady.” He nodded at Tara. “Go ahead, ma’am.”
“My name is Tara Philips, and I live with”—she pointed—“Byron, my husband, at 6219 Mayflower Way in Bozeman, Montana.”
Smythe tipped his chin. “And you, sir.”
“My name is Byron Philips, and I also live at 6219 Mayflower Way in Bozeman with my wife, Tara.”
Smythe tapped his notepad with the pen. “Okay, I need one of you to walk me through what happened and how you managed to have a critically injured girl in your car.”
“That’ll be me,” Tara said.
“Sure. Whenever you’re ready, ma’am.”
“As my husband said before, we were driving on back roads, enjoying the scenery on our way home, when I had to use the restroom. Of course, there were none anywhere in that area, so Byron had to pull over, and I headed into the woods. Seconds later, I heard a man’s voice coming in my direction. He had a rifle and that girl with him. He was threatening her. I tried to hide but stumbled backward, and he saw me. I think we were both shocked. He said, ‘Hell no’ or something to that effect then slammed the end of the gun into that poor girl’s face and ran off. We had passed a parked truck a little ways up the road, but when we returned to our car with the girl, the truck was gone. We’re assuming it was his.”
Smythe jotted that down. “Did either of you catch the plate number, make, or model of that truck?”
Byron took his turn. “It was a good half mile behind us, so no. The only thing I remember since we weren’t really paying attention to it was that it was a dark color. It could have been black, dark blue, dark green, charcoal. I just don’t know. It was in the shade.”
“So nothing other than the dark color?”
“Sorry, but no.”
“How about a location where this happened? Maybe a nearby billboard or a mile marker?”
“There wasn’t anything, but I’d say we were on that road for another fifteen minutes before we reached Highway 12 and made a right-hand turn there.”
“Okay, that’s something. And which side of the road did this happen on?”
Byron wrinkled his brow. “It had to be on the west side since I was heading south. Yeah, I’m sure of it.”
Deputy Knight looked at Tara. “And a description of the man?”
“Wow, okay. I only saw him for a split second. I was focused on that girl as well as my own safety. Um, let me think.” She closed her eyes and then said he had nearly black hair that was straight and greased back behind his ears.
“Age, height, and weight?”
“Nothing that stood out, but he wasn’t old.” Tara stared at the deputy. “Probably your age and similar to Byron’s height and weight.”
“So mid-thirties?”
“I’d say so.”
“Mr. Philips, what is your height and weight?”
“I’m six foot and one ninety.”
“Thanks.” Deputy Knight sighed. “Unfortunately, that isn’t much to go on. A dark-colored truck, a man with dark hair who could be my age, and Mr. Philips’s height and weight. That includes a lot of men. Did you notice what he was wearing?”
“Yes! Jeans, a green plaid shirt, and one of those tan canvas jackets.”
“Got it. Did you see his shoes?”
“No. There was too much brush.”
“And you’re sure it was a rifle he was carrying?”
“Positive. It was at least three feet long and had a scope on it.”
“Did either of you go through the girl’s pockets?”
Tara pulled back. “Of course not.”
“Okay, then I think that’s all we need other than your contact numbers.”
“But what about her? What about searching for that man?” Tara asked.
“We’ll find out from the hospital if she had an ID on her, but if she didn’t, we’ll have to wait until she wakes up to question her—if she does wake up.”
“And the man?” Byron asked.
“We’ll search the area, but you’ve already told us that there wasn’t a house, a sign, or even a mile marker to use as reference. There’s thousands of acres of national forest land back there, but we’ll give it our best shot. If he drove away in that truck like you think, then what or who are we searching for?”
Tara didn’t have an answer and had no idea how to respond. “Will the hospital tell us anything if we stop in to check on her?”
“Maybe and maybe not. She isn’t related to you, but on the other hand, we don’t know if she was related to that man either. We may have to put a guard at her door if she makes it through the night. You’re welcome to go there and ask, though. All they can say is no. One more thing before you leave.”
“Yes?” Byron asked.
“We’ll need the names of the relatives you visited in Minot and their phone numbers.”
After jotting down that information along with their cell phone numbers, Byron and Tara left for Mountainview Medical Center, where the girl was taken. According to Deputy Knight’s directions, the hospital was only a few blocks away.
“Should we go in through the main entrance or the emergency entrance?” Tara asked when they arrived.
“I’d say the emergency entrance. That’s how she was brought in, I’d assume. We’ll ask at the front desk and see if anyone will update us on her condition.”
They entered through the automatic sliding doors. A large waiting area was directly in front of them, and before the wall stood a long counter with three ladies sitting at computers behind it.
“Over here, babe.” Byron took Tara by the hand and walked to the first station.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, I certainly hope so. A young lady was brought in here by EMTs about a half hour ago. She has a severe head injury.”
“Name?”
“Mine?”
“No, sir. The patient’s name.”
“We don’t know. Um”—Byron rubbed his forehead—“it’s a long story, but we found her in the woods, called 911, and the ambulance met us halfway between Checkerboard and here. We’d just like to know that she made it and what her condition is.”
The receptionist stared at Byron. “Okay, sir. Why don’t you and your wife have a seat. I’ll find the attending and see if he’ll discuss the girl with you.”
“Thank you.” Byron turned. “Let’s wait over here, honey.”
They walked to a corner seating area near a bank of windows where they could be alone. Looking out, they could see the mountain range that they’d come from.
“That man is out there somewhere,” Tara said.
Byron nodded. “He is, and that worries me. I hope to God he didn’t get a look at our car or take down the plate number.”
They waited for what seemed like an eternity, then a man in a white lab coat pushed through the double doors that had the word Emergency in large red print above them. He whispered with the woman behind the counter who had spoken with Byron, then he approached them.
“I’m Dr. Barnes. Are you the couple who were asking about the Jane Doe?”
Tara grasped Byron’s hand and began to cry. “Does that mean she’s dead?”
“No, ma’am. It means she has no identification on her person. We don’t have any other name to call her.”
Tara breathed a sigh of relief. “Can you tell us anything about her condition?”
“I hear you aren’t family.”
“We aren’t, but nobody is looking for her or knows she’s injured except us.”
“I understand. What I can tell you is that we put her in an induced coma until the swelling on her brain goes down. She took a really hard hit, and she has a severe hematoma. We may need to operate, but for now, she needs to remain still and calm. We’re monitoring her brain activity, but if any alarms sound, we’ll have to operate immediately. If we’re lucky and the swelling goes down, there’s a good chance she’ll wake up on her own.”
“Do you have a prognosis?” Byron asked.
“It’s too early to know anything since we don’t have a baseline to go by. This is our starting point and a bad one, honestly. If we see improvement over the next day or two, I’ll have a better indication of a prognosis with testing. You can come back or call in a few days and ask again then. From what the EMTs said, she was bashed in the head with the butt of a rifle?”
Tara nodded. “She was, and I heard the crack.”
The doctor grimaced. “You witnessed what happened?”
“I did, and I believe the man intended to kill her.”
Concern clouded the doctor’s face. “I’ll have to get a guard on the ICU twenty-four hours a day, then, and I need to discuss that with the sheriff’s office immediately.”