but he would have commandeered the fastest ride home if he had known his daughter was seriously ill. He had never been able to forgive Mary Ellen for waiting to contact him. She had waited too long and he had never had a chance to even say good-bye to his little girl.
Seeing Mary Ellen today and hearing that she had a new husband and a new baby should have reminded that him what had happened in the past was an awfully long time ago. Instead the memories, the physical pain was still so close to the surface. He felt as though she had ripped a scab off a wound—a wound that had never healed properly.
He sat back from the microscope. Rubbed his face, hoping to wipe away the exhaustion. He plucked through his assortment of “leftovers” and “Dumpster” samples, wondering where to begin, when his cell phone rang. He almost shoved it away until he noticed the caller ID, then he couldn’t grab it fast enough.
He caught his breath before he answered, “Hey, Maggie O’Dell.”
“I keep forgetting you’re an hour ahead of me. Did I wake you?”
“No, I’m still at the lab.”
“At USAMRIID?”
“Yeah, a weird case. I’m trying to help the CDC figure out what made a hundred and five schoolkids sick.”
“Food poisoning?”
“Looks like it. I’m pretty certain it’s a salmonella strain but it hit two different schools in the same week. About two hundred miles apart. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. It’s all over the news.”
“Actually I haven’t seen or heard the news since yesterday. Been a little weird here, too.”
“Sure, conferences can be that way.”
“I’m not at the conference.”
“Oh.” He wanted to kick himself because his immediate response was that he was hurt she hadn’t told him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Just a little … overwhelmed,” she said.
Platt knew it was a lot for her to admit. They had started out as doctor and patient and sometimes Platt too easily reverted to that role. He couldn’t help it. He cared about her, more than he was willing to admit—at least, to her. It was only recently that he had admitted it to himself. He couldn’t risk losing her as a friend.
Platt knew Maggie was skittish when it came to romantic entanglements. That’s what she called them: “entanglements.” Amazing what could be learned about a person’s attitude toward something just by listening to the words she used to describe it. She didn’t talk about her divorce except to say how exhausting the marriage had been. And she didn’t talk about past entanglements, either.
To be fair, he hadn’t told her much about his marriage. There were large chunks of their lives that they hadn’t shared. Maybe they didn’t know each other as well as he thought. He did know that Maggie wouldn’t let anyone take care of her. And she rarely let down her guard. It was a big deal for her to even admit that she was overwhelmed.
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said.
She gave him an abbreviated rundown, which made him tense. Once again, she was chasing a killer. Coming way too close for his comfort level. No matter how many times he told himself it was what she did for a living, it still set him on edge.
“You’re right about the laser stun gun,” Platt said. “The military’s had the technology for a long time but it’s only recently they’ve managed to funnel its power into a small-enough weapon. From what I remember it’s the size of a rifle, and I think you still have to carry a backpack with some sort of charger. Originally it was developed for crowd control. All you have to do is sweep an area with the laser beam. You don’t have to connect like a stun gun or shoot an attached dart like a Taser. But from what I understand, it’s not meant to kill anyone.”
“Is it possible the military would stage war games in the middle of a Nebraska forest?”
“Actually it sounds like the perfect place. But they wouldn’t use a bunch of drugged teenagers for targets.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Platt took a deep breath to keep from getting defensive. He knew Maggie was simply looking at all angles but he tended to get his back up when anyone attacked the military. Sure, mistakes were made. And he had witnessed firsthand the corruption and abuse of power. He had exposed a couple of incidents himself. But he still wanted to believe they were rare.
“Right now,” she said, “it seems my options are GIs gone wild or red-eyed aliens.”
He laughed and finally she did, too.
Then completely out of nowhere, he blurted, “I miss you.”
Her silence made his stomach clench but for the first time, he realized he didn’t care.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“What? I can’t tell you I miss you without something being wrong?”
“I can hear it in your voice. Something’s going on.”
“It’s just … do you ever think you’ll want to have kids?” As soon as he said it, he knew he had stepped over the line.
“Ben, I don’t even know yet whether you wear boxers or briefs and you’re asking me if I want to have kids?”
He laughed again. Felt some of the tension drain away. He imagined her on the other end. She’d be smiling but shaking her head at him. Probably pacing. He knew she couldn’t stand still when she talked on the phone. If he was really making her nervous she’d be pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear right about now. The one thing he took away from her comment was that she used the word “yet.” She didn’t know “
“Are you okay?” she asked after a long silence.
“Yeah, I’m okay. This case is probably just getting to me,” he lied.
“You’re thinking about Ali,” she said and it wasn’t a question.
Maybe they actually knew each other too well.
FORTY-THREE
NEBRASKA
Lucy had left the light on for Maggie. The scent of freshly brewed tea and cinnamon filled the kitchen.
When she’d called Lucy earlier, Maggie had suggested she stay in North Platte, find a hotel room. Her suitcase was, after all, in the trunk of the rented Toyota. And she didn’t want to wear out her welcome. Lucy had been kind enough to take her in last night when they were all too exhausted to think clearly, but she certainly didn’t expect the woman to extend her invitation.
“It does take a bit longer to drive out here,” Lucy had said. “I’ll certainly understand if you’d rather stay in town, but I also would enjoy the company.” As if needing to reaffirm that she wasn’t simply being polite, she added, “I just put a batch of homemade cinnamon rolls in the oven.”
Now Maggie found the woman reading in the living room, a small fire crackling in the brick fireplace. The group of dogs huddled around Lucy all got up at once and came to Maggie, wagging and demanding attention, butting each other playfully out of the way.
Maggie sank down into the recliner opposite Lucy and petted each dog. She had never had her own mother wait up for her. Instead, Maggie—even as a twelve-year-old—was the one waiting up for her mother, who sometimes didn’t come home at all. Now suddenly she was struck by how good this place felt—warm, cozy, and safe. Not even twenty-four hours and it felt like home.
Lucy looked up at her over half-moon reading glasses and set her book aside.
“You look exhausted,” she said. “How are you?”
“Exhausted.” Maggie smiled. “But I’m okay.” Jake pushed his snout under her hand, asking to be petted and she automatically obeyed. The others had settled by Lucy’s feet again.
