Mean Streak

“And he carted you off to his cabin.”

She nodded.

“You can’t direct us to it?”

“No. For four days my universe consisted of a bed behind a screen.”

“Screen?”

“A folding screen of louvered panels. He set it up to give me privacy.”

“Decent of him.”

“Very.”

“But you don’t remember much about him?”

“Only that he treated me with extraordinary kindness.”

“Like a Good Samaritan?”

“Yes, whatever I needed…”

Sorry, Doc.

For what?

Keeping you awake.

I haven’t complained.

So, you don’t want me to stop?

No.

Don’t stop this?

No. God no. Don’t…don’t stop.

You’ll have to be the one who says you’ve had enough.

I’m not there yet.

Good. Because I can’t stop.

The deputies were looking at her curiously. She cleared her throat. “He was very thoughtful. Considerate.”

Neither of the men said anything.

She wet her lips. “He took care of my needs. I was aware. But not. Do you understand? Most of the time, he left me alone. To…to recover.”

Knight folded his arms across his sizeable middle. “In all that time, he never offered to call nine-one-one?”

She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t think so. Maybe. I don’t remember. Wasn’t there a storm? Fog? Weather that made the roads impassable?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He told me—he promised—that he would deliver me safely back once the roads cleared.”