Chương 2
Normal things.
Maya needed normal things.
The woman in the blue hat approached her.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“That was...”
She stopped.
Maya gave her a tired smile. “Yeah.”
The woman nodded too many times and left with her husband.
The man with the camera remained near the front windows, speaking in a low voice to another staff member. Maya wondered whether he was telling the story already. Whether, by evening, there would be a video online titled WOLF RECOGNIZES WOMAN AT SANCTUARY.
There would be a red circle around her face.
Possibly an arrow.
She almost smiled.
Ethan came through the observation door and locked it behind him.
“Come with me.”
Maya did not move.
“Where?”
“My office.”
“That sounds reassuring.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean it sounds like the first five minutes of a documentary where everyone later says they should’ve left immediately.”
Ethan looked at her.
Then, unexpectedly, he gave a short laugh.
It was not a comforting laugh.
More like exhaustion escaping.
“You can leave if you want.”
“I do want.”
“All right.”
He stepped aside.
Maya walked toward the front entrance.
Her hand reached the push bar.
Then she stopped.
The crescent scar on her wrist felt suddenly conspicuous.
She rubbed it with her thumb.
A memory flickered.
Not an image.
A sound.
Something metallic striking concrete.
A dog barking somewhere far away.
A woman saying, Hold still, sweetheart.
Maya closed her eyes.
The memory vanished.
Behind her, Ethan said nothing.
That helped.
She turned.
“Five minutes.”
He nodded.
“Five.”
His office looked exactly like the office of a man who spent more time outside than at his desk.
There were two jackets hanging from the back of the door, both damp at the shoulders. A stack of veterinary supply invoices leaned against a chipped ceramic mug. A radio charger blinked beside a computer monitor displaying a map of the sanctuary.
A framed photograph sat facedown beside the keyboard.
Maya noticed that because almost everything else on the desk had a purpose.
“Sit anywhere.”
There was only one chair that was not Ethan’s.
Maya sat.
Ethan remained standing.
She looked at him.
“You have four minutes and forty seconds.”
He rubbed a thumb across his lower lip.
“You said you’ve never been here.”
“I haven’t.”
“Not as an adult?”
“Not ever.”
“How sure are you?”
Maya stared at him.
“That’s not the kind of thing people are usually unsure about.”
“I’m asking for a reason.”
“You’re doing a great job making the reason sound worse.”
Ethan sat across from her.
“What do you know about the wolf?”
“Which wolf?”
“The one at the glass.”
“Large. Gray. Terrible people skills.”
“His name is Koda.”
Maya waited.
“Koda came here almost seven years ago.”
“All right.”
“He wasn’t born in the sanctuary.”
“Where was he born?”
“We don’t know.”
That surprised her.
“I thought sanctuaries kept records.”
“We keep very good records.”
“Then how do you not know?”
“Because he came from a seizure.”
“A what?”
“An illegal wildlife facility in northern Idaho. Private property. Wolves, wolf-dog hybrids, exotics. Most of the animals weren’t documented properly.”
Maya leaned back.
She had heard stories like that. Everyone had. Rich men with fenced compounds. Backyard breeders selling animals they had no business selling. Animals dying because people wanted to own something wild.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“We’re not sure.”
“We?”
Ethan looked toward the office door.
“Me. Our director. Two people who were here when Koda arrived.”
Maya’s patience thinned.
“You said he remembers me.”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“That’s the part I don’t know.”
She stood.
Ethan stood too.
“No,” Maya said. “You don’t get to say something like that and then give me a mystery box.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying you know.”
“I do know.”
“Then tell me what you actually know.”
Ethan looked at her wrist.
Maya folded her arms.
“Stop looking at that.”
“Sorry.”
“What does my scar have to do with anything?”
His hesitation was answer enough.
Maya stepped closer to the desk.
“What?”
“When Koda was brought in, he was badly injured.”
She said nothing.
“There was old scar tissue around his neck, probably from restraint. Missing part of one ear. Fractured rib healing wrong. And there was a cut on his left front leg.”
Maya looked toward the office wall.
“Okay.”
“The original intake notes mention that he reacted aggressively to almost everyone.”
“Almost?”
Ethan nodded.
“There was one exception.”
Maya felt something in her chest tighten.
“A woman?”
“A girl.”
The word landed strangely.
“How old?”
“We don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“The note says young female. Possibly a child. She wasn’t identified by name.”
Maya did not like where the conversation was going.
She walked to the window.
Outside, the parking lot was turning darker under the overcast sky. A white pickup truck reversed slowly between two rows of wet cars. A man in an orange hat smoked beneath an awning.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing impossible.
Behind her, Ethan said, “There’s more.”
“Of course there is.”
“The girl had an injury on her left wrist.”
Maya looked down at her scar.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then Maya shook her head.
“No.”
“I’m not saying it was you.”
“You already said he remembered me.”
“I said that in the moment.”
“Very professionally.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
She grabbed her jacket collar and pulled it tighter although the office was warm.
“How old is Koda?”
“About nine, maybe ten.”
“And he came here seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“So this mystery girl was around seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
Maya did the arithmetic immediately.
She had been twenty-two.
Not a child.
“So there you go.”
Ethan frowned.
“What?”
“I was twenty-two. Whoever your girl was, it wasn’t me.”
“The intake note might not mean a child.”
“You just said child.”
“I said possibly.”
“Ethan.”
“It says young female.”
Maya stared at him.
He reached for the computer mouse.
“Sit down.”
May you like
“No.”
“I want to show you the original scanned record.”
