Hotwire (Maggie O'Dell #9)

“Platt, are you coming?” Julia waited at the door.

Bix and the women had already gone out into the hallway.

Platt nodded and made his feet obey, but a voice in the back of his head kept repeating, “You haven’t moved on. You haven’t even begun to move on.”





CHAPTER 38





NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA


Maggie thought Wesley Stotter’s tale, though interesting, sounded too fantastic to be true. She hoped she might get some answers out of Dawson. She left Donny to figure out what to do with the entertaining Stotter.

On her way out of the cafeteria she went through the line again and grabbed a piece of chocolate cake for Dawson.

She was glad to see him awake until she got a good look at his eyes.

“He’s here,” he whispered instead of a greeting. His head jerked back and forth as if he expected someone to jump out of the room’s dark corners.

“Who are you talking about?”

She set the piece of cake on the cart beside him. He looked past it. Looked past her, over her shoulder, trying to see out the door.

“I saw him walk by the door three times.”

She stayed in his line of vision, shifting and trying to get him to meet her eyes. He was panicked, sweat glistening on his face, his arms pushing himself up.

“I know he was in here. I could smell him.”

She wondered if it was a reaction to the drugs they were giving him for pain. Or maybe it was simply the aftereffect of the electrical shock. She knew disorientation and incoherency could linger. So could the blurred vision.

“What does he smell like?”

“River mud. And sweat.”

She turned on a lamp in the corner of the room and came back to stand close to him.

“You think he wants to hurt you?”

“He said I’d be sorry.” His eyes flittered by, touching her face briefly before going off again. “Said I’d be sorry I survived.”

She wished she had talked to Lucy about side effects of salvia. Could the hallucinations return? Certainly the hospital staff had done a toxicology workup on Dawson. She needed to tell them about the salvia. Would this be another costly mistake?

“Dawson, you need to talk to me. I want to help you, but you have to let me in on what happened last night.”

“Can’t. I promised Johnny.” He caught the slip and looked to see if she had caught it, too.

“Johnny’s dead, Dawson.”

He stared at her as if waiting for a punch line.

“Johnny’s not dead. I saw him this morning.”

“He was here?”

“Yeah. You mean Kyle and Trevor. I know they’re dead.”

“Yes. And so is Johnny. We found him this afternoon.” She paused to let it sink in. “He may have taken an overdose of something.”

She was silent, not sure what to expect. What did teenagers do when they found out a friend was dead? Dawson was already imagining a stranger who smelled of river mud.

“What about Amanda?” His eyes were still worried.

“Was Amanda Johnny’s girlfriend?”

He frowned as if he had to think about it. His mind was probably still fuzzy. Then he said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“She’s fine.” Maggie watched for his reaction to see if he had a crush on Amanda.

His eyes darted to the door, slid to Maggie’s face, and jerked to the door again. Then he laid back.

“I can’t believe Johnny’s dead.”

To Maggie’s surprise the news about his friend’s death appeared to calm him, but just a little. He settled into the pillows. Ran his free hand through his hair. His other hand still had an IV needle connecting him to a bag of solution. His eyes settled down.

“Is your mom or dad here with you?” Maggie glanced around the room. There were no jackets or magazines. No purse or tote bag. No abandoned coffee cups or soda cans.

“My dad’ll stop by after work.”

“And your mom?”

“My mom hasn’t been around for a long time.” He said this as a matter of fact, without sadness or anger.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said automatically then wanted to kick herself. She hated when people asked about her father, especially after she told them he was killed when she was twelve. “Lame response,” she told Dawson. “But I am sorry you’re alone.”

He noticed the cake and looked up at her. “Is this for me?”

“Yes. I brought it up from the cafeteria.”

He grabbed the plate and fork and started shoving in bites, suddenly looking much more like a normal teenager.

“You’re not from around here.”

“It’s that obvious?”

He just shrugged. Kept on eating. She saw him glance inside her jacket where he could see her shoulder holster and weapon.

Maggie ventured closer.

“Dawson, you need to tell me what happened last night. Because I’m having an awful time trying to figure it all out.”

His eyes darted back to the doorway.