Twisted Creek

Chapter 27

We blinked our lights when we passed Paul Madison on the dam road and he circled and followed us back to Jefferson’s Crossing.

Dillon and the others were already inside when we climbed out of the Caddy. Paul helped Timothy inside.

I felt like I took my first breath since leaving when I stepped into the warmth of home and saw Dillon sitting on one of the café chairs that had been pulled close to the old stove.

All his wet clothes except his boxers had been removed. While he warmed by the stove, Mary Lynn knelt beside him, spreading antiseptic on cuts along his leg. His nose still dripped blood and the scarf bandage on his arm looked like it might cover a still-bleeding wound.

Before I could relax, I noticed Dillon’s eyes. Something was still wrong. He might not look injured, but he didn’t look normal. He swayed back and forth and stared with a blank look.

Mary Lynn glanced up at us and smiled. “It’s not as bad as I feared. There are no bad cuts or broken bones.”

Paul voiced what was on my mind. “Then what’s wrong with him?”

Luke moved in closer and pulled the boy’s head up. “He’s on drugs. I’d say about now he’s coming down from a bad trip.”

Then he lowered his voice and spoke only to Dillon even though we could all hear. “What’d you take, son?”

“Nothing,” Dillon shoved Luke’s hand away. “And you’re not my old man, so stop trying to act like a cop.”

“Answer me. I’m not messing around. You’ll tell me or you’ll be locked up in the time it takes me to get your ass to jail.”

Dillon wrapped in the blanket and slumped low in his chair. “I don’t have to tell you losers anything.”

“I want to know exactly what you took and when.” Luke leaned into the boy’s space. “And then, I want to know where you got it.”

Dillon turned away, but Luke didn’t back up an inch. “Now, Dillon. Right now.”

“Go to hell,” Dillon shouted.

I glanced at the others. We were all staring openmouthed at the ungrateful brat of a boy. Timothy had risked his life to save him. If Tim hadn’t seen him jump, the boy would be at the bottom of the lake and Tim would have made it home without wrecking his boat. We’d all gone out into a storm, risking our cars and boats and lives for him.

Luke was the only one who didn’t seem surprised by Dillon. He placed his thick arms on either side of the chair and lowered his voice to a deadly calm.

None of us breathed, except Dillon, who made a great show of slowing his exhale and ignoring us all.

“You’ve got ten seconds to start talking, son, or I’m calling your father in.”

An ounce of sanity flickered in the boy’s eyes. “No,” he said. “Don’t call him. He’ll kill me.”

Luke straightened and pulled a chair up. “We’ve got all night to talk. I’ll get us both a fresh cup of coffee, then I’ll hear the whole story.”

“Sugar,” Dillon muttered, then straightened. “I like sugar in mine.”

Luke smiled as he moved to the pot. “Sugar it is.”

Before he could say any more, Nana clomped down the stairs with a load of blankets. “All right, everyone, out of those wet clothes. I’ll not have you all catching pneumonia and the storm is far too bad to go back out.”

Mrs. Deals, the only other dry person in the room, nodded her head. “I agree. First things first. Get out of those wet, lake-smelling clothes.” She looked at me. “You’re all starting to smell like Willie.”

I pointed with my head for Mary Lynn to join me upstairs. She looked reluctant to leave Dillon, but Luke assured her the boy would be all right for a few minutes.

We toweled our hair and I loaned her a sweatshirt. She told me that because her pants were polyester, they’d be dry in no time. With her hair all wild and curly and the shirt replacing her librarian clothes, she looked ten years younger.

I slipped out of my dripping clothes and into a dry pair of jeans and a shirt I’d had in college. Since our shoes were wet, we put on slipper socks. Mine had tiny giggle bells at the back of my ankles and hers were red, white, and blue stripes with each toe fitted like a glove.

“You have a lot of these?” she asked as she wiggled her multicolored toes.

“Nana buys them for me every holiday.” My grandmother might never be able to give me a big gift under the tree or on my birthday, but she showered me with small ones.

“You’re lucky,” Mary Lynn said, and I realized she meant it.

“You did a good job of taking care of Dillon,” I whispered as we started downstairs. “You have a gift for staying calm in crisis.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” She shrugged, then added, “I always wanted to be a nurse, but I had to drop out of school when my folks died. I read everything I can find about nursing and first aid, though. I think in my heart I am a nurse.”

“I was glad you were with me.”

As we reached the bottom step, I noticed Luke tugging off his shirt and accepting a T-shirt Nana handed him from the store that said “I LIVE TO FISH.”

With his back turned to me, he pulled on the dry shirt. I stared at the muscles now clearly defined in the twinkle lights. Muscles and scars. Too many scars.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about how many more might be on his chest. Whatever he’d done, wherever he’d been, the road had not been an easy one for him.

Timothy sat by the stove beside Dillon, also wrapped in a blanket. Both young men looked like they’d been through hell and back tonight.

The storm raged suddenly, as if demanding another chance to fight.

I took inventory. Paul and Mrs. Deals were standing by the bay window, watching the play of lightning reflecting off the lake. “Where’s Willie?” I asked.

To my surprise, Mrs. Deals answered, “I made him change on the porch. Told him to stand under the drain coming off the roof before he put clean clothes on.”

No one said a word, but Luke’s blue eyes danced with laughter.

As if we’d taken a silent vote, we all pulled our chairs close to the fire and waited for Dillon and Luke’s talk. Luke could forget any thought he might have had of talking to the boy alone.

It crossed my mind that Luke had done this kind of gentle interrogation before. The only question was: What side of the table had he been on at the time?

Once Dillon started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. He admitted to buying drugs from a guy out by the bridge.

“All the team knows about him. Speed for the game, downers after so you can sleep. A few pills that make you forget. A few that make you not care. He sells them all.”

“How long has he been there?” Luke raised an eyebrow.

Dillon shrugged. “I don’t know. Before old Jefferson died. I’ve known about him, but I swear this was my first buy. Guy on the team says he’s out there around midnight and sells until he runs out of drugs. I came out once with some friends, but he wasn’t there.”

I was glad Luke didn’t ask for a vote as to who believed Dillon.

“After I made the buy, I decided to sit out on the dam and watch the storm move in. Most nights I try to make it in after my old man has gone to bed.” His words were slurred a little.

“How much did you drink?” Luke asked, as if they were simply talking.

“A few beers.”

“Two, three, six…”

He looked down. “Six, I guess. It was a bad day. The coach told me I’m benched for grades and if they don’t come up I’m off the team. Before next Saturday, I got to tell my dad that I’m not playing.”

No one said a word, but Nana reached over and patted his hand.

Dillon slowly pulled it out of her reach and looked back at Luke. “I was only planning to sample some of the pills I bought. I must have taken too many. I remember it started raining and I just sat there trying to figure out what was happening. Then, I felt sick, real sick. I stood to throw up off the dam and the whole world started spinning. You know, like the world starts circling too fast and gravity starts to give?”

None of us looked like we understood.

Luke leaned forward. “You didn’t fall in on purpose?”

“Hell, no.” He shook his hair out of his eyes. “I got a date Friday night with Brandy Russell.”

His laugh held no humor. “Besides, I’d never have to kill myself-my dad will probably do that for me when he hears I’m not on the team for much longer. You don’t know how much it means to him that I play ball.”

“Where are the rest of the pills?” Luke changed the subject.

“The bottom of the lake, I guess.” Dillon rubbed his forehead, then winced with the pain. “I think the boat clobbered me when we flipped.”

“Where do you hurt?” Luke didn’t sound too interested. So much for bedside manner.

“Everywhere,” Dillon answered. “Look, man, you can’t tell my dad. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll swear never to take another pill or drink another beer, but you got to forget this ever happened. I’ll tell Dad I fell during football practice and got clobbered at the bottom of a pile.” He looked up at the people surrounding him and lowered his head in his hands.

I heard him gulp back tears.

“I wish I’d died in that water. I might have survived his disappointment about football, but if he finds out I did drugs he’ll think I’m nothing but a loser. He’ll never stop lecturing me, or worse, he’ll start ignoring me. I’ll be dead to him. I’ll be just one of the low-life losers who never went anywhere. I’ll be worthless. I’ll be…”

Timothy finished the boy’s sentence. “You’ll be one of us.”

Dillon raised his battered face, bruised and tearstained. His wide-eyed gaze moved from one of us to the other. I felt like a performer in a freak show who always thought she lived in the normal world until catching the first glance through the eyes of a stranger.

Luke leaned forward and laced his big hands together in front of him. “We won’t tell.” He spoke for us all. “But I know a way you can make your father proud of you that in his line of work might mean more than scoring a touchdown. You can help put whoever’s dealing drugs in jail.”

Mrs. Deals puffed up like a blowfish. “You’re not going to put this boy in any danger, are you, Luke? I’ll not stand by and allow you to do that.”

“No,” he answered. “I promise.”

Mary Lynn raised her hand. “I want to help also on this quest. I’ve got the only house that’s near enough to the dam to keep a lookout.”

“If she’s helping, I’m in, too.” Paul placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “From her window we can track every car that goes over the bridge.”

“I’m in for a shift. It’ll be something to do besides sit on the lake,” Timothy answered.

Everyone started talking at once. No one seemed to hear Luke’s repeated warning that none of them needed to get involved. Even Willie said he’d run a lookout from the shoreline and Nana started planning the stakeout menu.

As the storm raged, the Jefferson’s Crossing army formed and drafted Luke as our leader. I watched him argue, then debate, then finally give in. They all wanted to help and I think deep down he knew he needed us.

When I met his gaze a few minutes later, I saw acceptance. And something else. Worry.

I had to wonder if we had any idea what we were getting into.