Hotwire (Maggie O'Dell #9)

“So what was it you think you shot at?”


“I’m not sure. I didn’t really get a good look. It had red eyes. Maybe a wolf.”

Now Skylar jerked forward, surprised.

“A wolf? You sure it wasn’t a coyote? Maybe a cougar? Hank said there’s a big cat of some sort in the forest. They’ve had sightings. But wolves? We haven’t had wolves in this area since I’ve been here.”

“I don’t know. I guess it could have been a coyote or cougar. It was big. And white.”

“White?” Skylar sat back and shook his head again. No longer interested. “A white wolf or cougar.”

“It pounced at me. I shot at it. I’m pretty sure I hit it.”

“There weren’t any animal tracks,” Skylar told him, his arms crossed over his chest.

The sheriff wore a flannel shirt this morning, a black-and-red plaid that somehow made him appear bigger. Maggie realized the sidearm strapped at his waist probably had something to do with the appearance, too. Last night she hadn’t seen any weapon under his jacket.

The boy looked at Maggie again, but she had nothing to offer. There had been plenty of footprints all over the sandy floor of the forest but no animal tracks, at least none the size of a wolf or coyote or cougar. The pine needles could have disguised an animal’s presence, but a wounded animal would have certainly left prints.

Then Maggie remembered. The girl named Amanda had been bitten on her arm. Could it have been an animal? What did she say about it? “He bit me.” Last night Maggie hadn’t thought to ask. It seemed a minor issue compared to the girl’s shock and the other teens’ injuries.

“Dawson, I’m disappointed. I didn’t expect you to lie when two of your friends are dead.”

“It’s true. It was watching from the brush when the fireworks were going off. It had red eyes.”

“Fireworks. Right.”

Last night, while they were being treated, some of the others had mumbled something about fireworks or a light show. Hank had been within a mile of the teenagers’ campsite and hadn’t seen any display, nothing close to fireworks or a laser-light show like the teens described. It could have been the salvia.

At some point Maggie would need to fess up about the plastic bag Lucy had found. She was hoping to have it analyzed before handing it over with the other trace evidence. If Skylar had kept the existence of drugs a secret during a previous investigation, she wouldn’t risk him doing it again. She certainly didn’t expect any of the teenagers to offer up information about the drug.

Perhaps Skylar read her mind.

“What kind of drugs were you tripping on?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You kids might think I’m an old man, but I’m not stupid. I know you weren’t in the forest at dusk sitting around drinking soda pop. Not the first time you’ve been out there either, is it?”

Maggie had to give the man some credit. Sometimes this type of interrogation opened a spigot when the subject felt guilty and just needed an extra push to spew out a confession or give up some vital information. But this would not be one of those moments. Maggie didn’t think Dawson Hayes looked guilty. He looked scared.

When the boy met her eyes this time, his eyes stayed on her. She saw the panic soften and give way to a spark of recognition.

“You’re the one who found me,” he said.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You should have just let me die with the others.”





CHAPTER 21





NEBRASKA


Even without the barbed wire Maggie thought Dawson Hayes still looked fragile in the stark, white hospital bed. She felt an odd connection to him and couldn’t shake how his eyes had pleaded with her, depended on her.

This morning his arms were wrapped in blood-stained bandages. An IV tube snaked from the back of his hand to a machine. She and the sheriff were told that a gastrointestinal tube had been removed from his throat so he might be a bit hoarse. And that they shouldn’t push him to talk too much.

The scratches on his face looked raw against his pale skin. The bandage on his neck hid a wound that seeped. But the thing that bothered Maggie most was that the boy still looked scared.

Sheriff Skylar had insisted he direct the interviews with the teenagers. They were kids from his area. He knew many of their parents. They’d feel more comfortable talking to someone they knew rather than a state patrolman or an FBI agent. She agreed, letting him believe that in doing so, he had won a major concession, when in fact, Maggie didn’t actually have official approval to proceed as lead investigator.