Damaged (Maggie O'Dell #8)

Walter stopped with a forkful of kraut to look at the guy. “You know Upper Darby?”


“My dad grew up in Philadelphia. He talked about Upper Darby.”

“Is that right?” Walter finished, wrapped the hot dog in a napkin, nestled it into a paper dish, and handed it to the guy. “Would I know him? Where’d he go to high school?”

“You know, I’m not sure. He died a few years ago. Cancer. His name was Phillip Norris. He didn’t stay in Philadelphia. Joined the navy.”

“Retired navy,” Walter said, pointing a thumb to his chest.

“No kidding?” The guy took a careful bite of the hot dog, nodded, and smiled. “This is one good dog.”

“One hundred percent beef.”

“Hey, Mr. B,” a scrawny kid interrupted.

“Danny, my boy. Ready for your regular?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Danny here is quite the entrepreneur.” Walter always tried to bring his customers together.

“Is that right?”

“Working on the beach cleanup crew and living out of his car to save money.”

“And to surf,” Danny added.

“His surfboard is worth more than his car.”

Danny shrugged and smiled. Walter knew the boy enjoyed the attention. He wasn’t sure what the kid’s story was. He looked about fifteen but Walter had seen his driver’s license and it listed him at eighteen and from someplace in Kansas. Maybe the kid really did just want to surf.

Danny had the routine down. Worked the cleanup crew in the evenings till about eleven, slept in his car, surfed all day, used the outdoor showers on the beach and the public restrooms on the boardwalk, ate hot dogs with mustard, onion, and kraut with a Coke. Not a bad life, Walter supposed.

He handed the kid his hot dog and poured an extra-large Coke, then accepted the boy’s two bucks. Their agreement. Walter figured this was the kid’s only real meal of the day, so he cut him a deal.

Another line started forming. A bunch of college kids, pushing and shoving at one another.

While handing Walter a ten-dollar bill, Norris was watching Danny get into his faded red Impala. Maybe the kid reminded him of himself.

“On the house,” Walter said.

That got his attention.

“I can’t let you do that.” The guy looked stunned like no one had ever said that to him before. “Besides, I can more than afford it,” he said, swinging his head and his eyes back in Danny’s direction.

“I know you can. Come back and buy one tomorrow. That one’s on me. For your daddy—one vet to another. Now go enjoy. You’re holding up my traffic.”

Norris wandered off to the side, glancing at the people behind him. The ten-dollar bill stayed in his hand like he didn’t know what to do with it. He thought he might have offended the guy. That he might stick around and try to pay him again.

Walter wished he could figure out what was so familiar about him though even the name Phillip Norris didn’t ring any bells. He realized he should ask where his dad was stationed in the navy. But when he looked up the guy was gone.





CHAPTER 23





Scott Larsen ignored his ringing cell phone. It was either a grieving family calling to nag or it was Trish, and he didn’t want to talk to her, either. After a quick glance he continued through the hotel lobby. It was Trish. She didn’t appreciate him leaving again even if it was for business. She’d gotten herself worked up about this frickin’ hurricane. He was getting so tired of everybody worrying about this storm when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Trish had probably remembered one more thing to harangue him about. Something else her daddy had done for her.

“Daddy brought us some gasoline,” she had told him earlier.

“Wow. He spent his entire week’s hot-dog money.”

“That’s rude. He was being gracious.”

“Taking care of his little girl.”

“Maybe he thought he had to because her husband wasn’t doing a very good job.”

“I’m off making a living. Paying the bills.”

“If this hurricane hits, none of that will matter.”

And by this time she had worked herself into angry tears, which automatically clicked Scott into his professional comforter role. He’d put an arm around her shoulder, instigated the combination hand pat while whispering a series of soothing words and phrases.

By the time she spoke again the hitch in her voice was gone.

“I guess we just have to hope our insurance covers everything.”

That knocked Scott cold. No way he could tell her now that he hadn’t taken out insurance on their new place, the dream house that had already skyrocketed over their budget and would almost be finished if his wife would quit changing and adding.

“Daddy said we can stay with him during the hurricane. We can’t stay here on the bay. We’ll be safe at Daddy’s.”