“I found you on the road. You passed out.”
She looks around the room again before she focuses back on my face.
“You bought me donuts.”
“Yeah, I did.” I snicker softly. “You were trying to steal them.”
“I wasn’t. I don’t know how they got in my pocket. I guess they must have fallen off the shelf.”
Her explanation is about the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, far more implausible than the many, many excuses and claims of innocence I heard from my comrades in prison. She doesn’t seem phased by my look of incredulity but rather directs her attention lower.
“Where are my clothes?”
“Hanging up by the fire,” I say. “They were wet. Getting wet in this weather is a death sentence.”
She nods slowly. I’m still waiting for the panic to set in, but she remains calm. She looks around the room again as she takes a deep breath.
“What were you doing out there?” I ask.
“They just left me there on the road.” Her voice is a monotone.
“Who did?”
“Two guys. I met them outside the gas station.”
“Wearing hunting gear?”
“Yes. They said they would give me a ride to Yellowknife, but when I told them I didn’t have any money, they started suggesting other ways I could pay them. When I refused, they dumped me beside the road.”
I narrow my eyes as I stare at her face. Her story is perfectly plausible, but her tone of voice is so matter-of-fact and emotionless, I don’t know if I should believe her or not. There’s definitely something off about her. I’m tempted to confront her, but I don’t even know what to say.
“You’re pretty calm about all of this.” I raise my eyebrows when she looks at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” I say and then pause for a moment before continuing, “I kinda expected you to be more scared, I guess.”
“Of what?”
“Me. Being in a weird place. Something.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“No.” The word comes out of my mouth automatically. As soon as I say it, my throat tightens. I don’t intend to hurt her, but I know from experience that there is never a guarantee.
“Is there something dangerous in this place?”
“Well…” I’m not really sure how to answer. Any given place has a certain level of danger associated with it, but I know that isn’t what she means. “I mean, there’s a fire, which is potentially dangerous, but there isn’t a minefield under the floor or anything.”
I don’t tell her I also have guns around the place. It’s not information I think she needs.
“I guess all that’s left is in the unknown,” she says. “If I were to be afraid of that, I’d always be afraid.”
I can’t really fault her logic, but her attitude is still unsettling.
The kitten must have felt left out of the conversation because he chooses that time to jump up on the bed and walk up the woman’s leg.
“Is there a cat on me?”