He’s gone before she can argue. Not that she doesn’t want the sandwich—she just doesn’t want Dalton to bring it, which would mean she might actually need to say thank you. We may be fifteen years out of high school, but in many ways Diana never left.
And as soon as I think that, she proves why it’s hard to cut her loose. She pours me a fresh coffee and then pulls up a chair, eagerly awaiting my story. When I’m done, she’s full of questions, but none of them are challenges, none feel like subtle jabs, the way April’s can. Diana is genuinely interested in my case and how she can help, and she trusts that I can solve it and keep Rockton safe from whatever lurks in the forest.
As we talk, Dalton silently delivers our breakfast, with only a squeeze on my shoulder before he’s gone again. I’m unwrapping my sandwich when I catch the
smell of warm chocolate chip muffins. Diana hands me one and laughs as I devour half in a bite.
“Didn’t your mother teach you to eat your meal before dessert?”
“My mother didn’t let me have dessert, as you may recall. Besides, muffins aren’t dessert.”
“Put chocolate in them and they’re icing-free cupcakes.”
“Then, as someone who only eats the icing, you won’t mind me having yours, too.”
As she passes her muffin over, I notice her hot-pink nails. “Got the care package, did you?”
“Yes, and thank you. I’ll put the hair dye in later.”
On yesterday’s supply run, I’d bought Diana nail polish and pink dye, which she uses to streak or tip her blond hair. Cosmetics aren’t a priority here, and most women—like me—are happy for the excuse to go without. But they make Diana happy, and I don’t begrudge her that.
“You think it’s hostiles, don’t you?” she asks as we settle in again.
“I think everything is hostiles.” I sigh as I nibble the muffin. “The object of my obsession.”
She pulls her feet up under her. “Your brain needs puzzles. This is a good one. You’ve already figured out how people turn into hostiles.”
“I didn’t figure out anything. Maryanne told me.”
“After you made it your mission to rescue her.”
“Help her. She rescued herself. As for figuring out what to do about the hostiles…”
I grumble under my breath. To the council, hostiles are like cult members. It doesn’t matter if they’re being brainwashed, we have no right to remove them. The fact that most are former Rockton residents? Irrelevant. The fact that most were kidnapped, which makes it 100 percent our jurisdiction? Also irrelevant, because they’d all chosen to leave Rockton before their “indoctrination” and therefore weren’t our responsibility anymore.
The council treats our requests like we’re asking to euthanize all grizzlies. Hostiles don’t bother us any more often than brown bears, and so our request is unconscionable. These people chose to be out there, so leave them alone.
I take a deep breath. “Yes, I think it’s possible this woman was attacked by hostiles. Possible. Not even probable.”
“She didn’t come out here alone, right? People don’t do that.”
“Not unless they’re paranoid gold miners, which she isn’t. Her clothing and—”
A gasp. Both of us swivel to see the woman’s eyes open and staring at the ceiling. She blinks twice and then starts to lift her arm.
“Hold on,” I say, leaping to my feet. “You’re—”
Before I can get to her, she realizes she’s restrained and howls in terror, thrashing. I shout at Diana for help, and we steady the bed before the woman’s flailing tips it over.
“It’s okay!” I shout to be heard over her screams. “You’re fine. You’re in a hospital—”
Diana undoes the restraints on the woman’s right arm. I’m so focused on the woman’s face that I don’t see what Diana’s doing until the woman’s freed hand smacks Diana, sending her staggering backward.
“Nein!” Diana says. “Nein!”
Not exactly helpful. If I woke tied to a bed with strangers, I certainly wouldn’t listen if they told me no. I’d only fight harder, and that’s what she does.
I manage to pin the woman’s free arm as I lean over her. “It’s okay. You’re hurt. We’re helping. You’re in a hospital.”