“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.
“I promise you won’t get in trouble.” Even as she said this she sensed his panic. “But I can’t protect you if I don’t know what to protect you from.”
He finished the cake. Left the plate on his tray and took a long draw at the straw in his water glass. He was studying her, trying to decide whether or not to trust her.
“I know about the salvia,” she said and saw his eyes widen. “I don’t care who brought it or where you got it. I just need to know what happened. What were you doing in the forest?”
“My dad was a quarterback in high school.”
Maggie had no idea what this had to do with anything. Would he just avoid all her questions? Still, she listened.
“He really liked Johnny.” Dawson stared at his hands, twisted the top of the bedsheets. “Sometimes I think he wished Johnny was his son instead of me.”
He paused. He was waiting for her to say something. Another one of those knee-jerk responses like “I’m sorry.” She stayed quiet. She had no idea what to say to that.
“I just wanted to fit in. You know, be cool.” He looked up to make sure she was listening. “I was just excited they invited me.”
“Last night wasn’t the first time?”
“Third, for me.”
“It was an invitation-only party?”
“For some. Some new kids were always invited. Kind of a test.”
“Like an initiation?”
He shrugged.
“You always tried different drugs?”
He shrugged again.
“You’re not going to get in trouble,” she reassured him. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”
But she could see he was still trying to decide what to tell her and what to leave out.
“Were you filming your experiences for YouTube?”
His eyes flashed and she knew she’d hit on a kernel of truth.
“You found the camera.” Not a question but an admission.
She didn’t admit that they had not. Why didn’t they find one? Had someone taken it before they arrived at the scene?
“And what about the pig’s blood,” she tried another shot in the dark.
To this he just shook his head.
“That was some dumb-ass idea of Johnny’s. He wanted to see what the losers would do if he splattered them with blood.”
She noticed he was still holding the fork she had brought with the piece of cake. He waggled it in one hand then shifted to the other, back and forth.
“Who attacked you, Dawson? Was that part of the ritual?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Who was it then?”
“I don’t know.” And the panic returned.
“I need your help, Dawson.”
For the first time he really looked at her. He was scared, but also perplexed that someone would ask such a thing of him.
“You need my help?”