St. Sithney Hospital cuts a large and impressive figure in Antlers’ skyline - it might be the tallest building Austin has seen yet in town, but maybe that’s because it’s on a hill. It’s a shimmering structure of glass and dark, reflective metal that does nothing to disguise that its insides are sterile and gleaming white, the same as any other hospital. The parking lot is vast, as most hospital parking lots seem to be, and Austin spends a frustrating amount of time figuring out how to park his motorcycle as close to the main entrance as possible.
As he takes his helmet off and shoulders through the automatic front doors of St. Sithney, Austin notices a thin figure clad in tan standing in the lobby, and once again has the unfortunate sinking feeling of immediate recognition. Mac is standing at the receptionist’s desk, chatting to the nurse behind it as she receives a visitor’s badge. She looks behind her as the front doors hiss shut, and her face is puzzled for a moment before she smiles in recognition.
“Austin!”
“Hey,” Austin says haltingly, joining Mac at the receptionist’s desk. He hasn’t exactly planned for how he was going to get a visitor’s badge, and in front of a cop, it’s probably going to be even harder. He swallows. “I’m, uh, looking for one of the interns here -”
Mac nudges him playfully with her elbow, a little harder than strictly necessary. “I thought you were sent down here to help me interview Ms. Peterson?”
She looks at him expectantly. Austin stares back. What the hell is she talking about?
“You know,” Mac says, a little more forcefully, “you’re supposed to be my backup. From the sheriff.”
Oh. Austin blinks. “Uh, yeah. Right.”
“Can you give him a visitor’s badge?” Mac asks the nurse behind the desk sweetly. “You just need his ID, right?”
The nurse makes an affirmative noise, and Austin fumbles his driver’s license out of his pocket, setting it down on the desk. It isn’t long before he gets it back, along with a visitor’s badge that he sticks to his jacket. Mac grabs his wrist and tugs him along towards the elevators before he can thank the nurse, nearly wrenching his arm out of its socket. She’s strong, for such a small person.
The elevator chimes to announce its arrival, and Mac pulls him inside. Austin wishes that he’d thought to smoke a cigarette before coming inside. He knows smoking is bad for him, but it’s only a once-in-a-while thing. To kill time. To make him less anxious about things. He glances over at Mac, as she presses the button for the top floor of the hospital. It’s going to be a long ride.
“Why’d you help me?” he asks, as the elevator doors slide shut.
“Because I believe you,” Mac says, simply.
“Why?” Austin asks. “I could just be here to finish off the other victims.”
“Nah. If you were, you’d have turned around and left as soon as you saw me standing in the lobby. I don’t think you’d be here if you weren’t trying to solve the case yourself.” Mac wrinkles her nose a little, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. “Don’t you hate hospital smell? It’s like bleach and old people.”
Austin shrugs, unsure of what to say.
“I mean,” Mac continues, apparently perfectly happy to support the conversation by herself, “I just hate this place in general. When I was here for my tracheal shave -”
“Your what?” Austin asks, a hand unconsciously flying to his throat.
“Getting my Adam’s apple reduced,” Mac clarifies.
“Oh,” Austin says, a little too loud, shoving his hands in his pockets. He feels a little silly for asking, but Mac volunteered the information, so maybe it’s okay. “Cool. I mean - good for you.”
“Thanks!’ Mac says brightly, bobbing slightly on the balls of her feet.
Midway through their trip upwards, the elevator grinds to a halt, and the doors part to let someone on. Austin is staring at his boots, trying to think of something else to say to Mac, and startles a little when the newcomer speaks.
“Austin?”
Austin’s raises his eyes to meet Otter’s, and he chews the inside of his lip. “Hey.”
“What’s going on?” Otter smiles at him, but questioningly, his eyebrows tilting upwards. “Did you get a job?”
“Um, sort of.” Austin jerks his head towards Mac. “I’m helping the sheriff’s department out with something.”
“We’re here to interview a patient,” Mac supplies helpfully. “Lorraine Peterson.”
“I’m...consulting,” Austin says. He gives Otter a meaningful stare and hopes that Otter catches his drift.
Otter looks from Austin to Mac and back again, a worry line still etched between his eyebrows. He looks more frazzled than he was this morning - his hair is totally on end, and Austin wants to smooth it down for him, but not in front of Mac. Then something seems to click in Otter’s mind, and his eyes go wide. He raises his eyebrows at Austin in a silent question - you’re doing your Sixth Sense thing?
Austin gives Otter a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, which seems to clear up things between them. He told Otter about being a medium only yesterday, but unlike Sheriff Maxwell, Otter seems to have accepted it at face value. From what little Otter’s said about his family, Austin’s gleaned that they’re pretty spiritual people. Maybe not hippies, but close enough for Otter to think that the idea of life after death holds a lot of weight.
“We’ll talk tonight,” he promises Otter, as the elevator finally arrives at the top floor.
Austin lets Mac disembark before him, and falls into step beside her as she navigates the hallways, letting her lead the way to the patient’s room. She shoots him a sly grin as soon as they’re out of sight of the elevator.
“Is that the guy you’re staying with?”
Austin grimaces. “Yeah.”
“He’s cute,” Mac crows, and Austin feels his face grow suddenly warm, so he looks down at his feet again.
Mac counts the room numbers under her breath, but Austin is focused enough on his feet that he doesn’t notice when she stops outside of one of the doors. He keeps walking for a couple of seconds before he realizes the absence of footsteps next to him, looks up, and sees Mac yards away, grinning. His face gets even hotter. The craving for a cigarette is back, and even stronger than it was not ten minutes ago.
“Ready?” Mac asks him. Austin nods.
The hospital room is small, and the woman in the bed - Lorraine - looks small and washed-out against the white sheets. She’s ignoring the lunch tray on her lap in favor of staring ardently at herself in a small compact mirror, applying lipstick, but she looks up when Mac shuts the door with a soft click.
“You must have the wrong room,” Lorraine says.
“No ma’am.” Mac is suddenly less smiley and all formal, standing up straighter. “We’re here to talk to you about the night you were attacked.”
Lorraine’s half-painted mouth twists into a sour smile. “You don’t want to hear about that.”
“It’s for an official investigation,” Mac says. Austin stays quiet and leans against the wall, feeling out of place and wishing he had stayed outside and let Mac do her job by herself. There’s no reason why he should be here, bothering this woman.
“You’re doing an official investigation on a dog attack? Isn’t that a job for Animal Control?” Lorraine laughs. Austin sees Mac’s cheeks go a little pink, and her hands ball into fists.
“I’m just asking you to answer some questions, ma’am.”
“And I’m asking you-”
“Look, the faster you answer her questions, the faster we’ll get out of your hair,” Austin interjects, maybe a little too loudly. He thinks he catches Mac shooting him a grateful glance, but he’s only looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and his eyes have played tricks on him before.
Lorraine snorts and sits up, propping herself against her pillow. “Well, fine. What do you want to know?”
“Just tell us what happened,” Mac says flatly, flipping to a blank page in her notepad, and pulling a pen out of her breast pocket.
“There isn’t that much to tell.” Lorraine’s lip curls a little. “My sister Mary and I were passing through on our way to Arizona. We were both tired of driving, so we stopped at a motel -”
Mac pauses in scribbling in her notepad and looks up over the rims of her glasses. “The Antlers Motel?”
Lorraine nods. “That’s the one. We checked in and took showers, and I went out into the parking lot around midnight to smoke. Then before I knew what was happening-” She peels back the bedsheets and indicates her right leg, wrapped in bandages. “Twenty-five stitches, in my leg and stomach.”
“No witnesses?” Austin gets to the question before Mac can even look up. “There’s a construction zone right there.”
“They’re building an addition onto the motel,” Mac confirms, nodding.
“Yeah, I guess there was a construction site. Nobody there, though,” Lorraine says. “Whatever bit me - the wolf, or dog, or whatever it was - ran back through that way. But I think it was late enough that the workers were done for the night. Mary heard me screaming and came out of the room to see what was happening. More people came too - I think I woke them up.”
Austin frowns. “None of them saw what attacked you?”
“No. It was gone by the time they got there. And I was near passed out from blood loss.”
“We should talk to everyone at the motel,” Austin muses, half to himself, half to Mac. “And the construction site. Someone might have noticed something, just not spoken up.”
Mac clicks the top of her pen and snaps her folder shut. “I’ll call Monty - er, Sheriff Maxwell.”
“What do you think it is?” Lorraine asks, clearly trying to sound casual, and returning to her lipstick application. “Someone’s dog? A wolf?”
“Your guess is as good as ours,” Austin says dryly, already opening the door to show himself and Mac out.
otter is the best boyfriend ever