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“You can’t contract pneumonia by getting cold. If she fell into the marsh, she’s more likely to have caught a parasite. We should see her in person.”
“I didn’t want to risk taking her out. I didn’t know if my Jeep was even going to make it here and back.”
“That’s why we have snowmobiles. I can’t give her the right medicine until I know what she has.”
I don’t like the idea of taking Amanda back to my cabin, but I don’t seem to have another choice. I join her on the back of a snowmobile, and we head off. When we reach the cabin, Seri is in the bathroom and Solo is just outside the door, complaining about being locked out.
Seri seems barely aware of Amanda’s presence and doesn’t complain when the nurse checks her out.
“I’m pretty sure it’s Beaver Fever,” Amanda says when she turns back to me. “It’s a silly name but a nasty parasitic infection. It causes vomiting, diarrhea, and fever. It’s pretty common in fresh water.”
“Is it deadly?” I ask.
“From dehydration, possibly, but she’s not terribly dehydrated. Push the fluids. She’ll need specific medicine for it, but the clinic has the right prescription in stock. We get outbreaks every few years but usually not until the spring thaw.”
I make sure Seri has enough water before I leave her for the trip back.
“Are you going to tell me who she is?” Amanda asks as we head back to the snowmobile.
“No.”
“How long is she going to stay with you?”
“I don’t know!” I tense as a wave of images floods through my head—everything from beating Amanda unconscious to finding my axe and killing her in the snow. The thoughts catch me off guard, and I squeeze my eyes shut until I can force those notions from my head and try to figure out what brought them on.
I’ve become accustomed to Seri’s presence in my life. Violent images don’t flow through my head like they once did, and I’m grateful for it. Apparently, that shift in thinking doesn’t extend to others. The only real problem is that I have no desire to answer Amanda’s questions. I know she’s just going to relay to Margot whatever she learns as soon as she gets the chance. I take a deep breath to calm myself before I speak again.
“I appreciate your help, though.”
“We all help each other.” Amanda has no idea what’s been running through my head, and that’s definitely for the best.
I climb on behind her, and she revs the snowmobile back to life. We zip across the snow, and I’m glad for the engine noise—it keeps chatter to a minimum. When we arrive back at the clinic, Amanda questions me again, but I don’t tell her anything.
Amanda finally relents and heads off to get the meds. As I wait by the counter, a man walks in. He’s wearing decidedly American winter gear, but he doesn’t look like a tourist ready for ice fishing. He has a dark, full beard and unkempt curly hair. He addresses the woman at the front desk.
“Good afternoon,” the man says as he leans heavily on the counter. “I’m hoping you can help me out.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Have you seen this woman?” I glance sideways as he places a photograph on the counter. “She’s been missing for some time, and I’ve managed to trace her to Fort Providence but no sign of her after that. Her family back in the States is worried.”
The picture the man has place
d on the counter is, without a doubt, the woman in my cabin.
“Her name is Iris McGuire,” the man says. “She’s been missing for three months now.”
All my arm hairs stand up on end as he keeps talking about how long he’s been looking for Iris and how worried her loved ones are about her. The receptionist tells him there is no one matching her description at the hospital and promises to let him know if she hears anything.
“Don’t let him kill us.”
As he places a business card on the counter, I take a closer look at him. He’s definitely trying to look like a cop, which means he probably isn’t one. I try to read some of the information on the leaflet, but the print is too small, and I don’t want to be obvious.
I must have stared too long because the man suddenly turns to me and stares straight into my eyes.
“You’ve seen her.” It’s not a question.
“I think I did,” I say with a shrug. “It was a while ago.”
