Kaylee was waiting for us in the police truck, behind the gate at the entrance to the sawmill. She received us with her pistol in her hand, but she had a pained smile on her face. Pained by everything that had happened, I wanted to suppose, because she still looked very agile for a woman in such an advanced state of pregnancy as hers. She helped me climb into the back seat of the vehicle and wrapped me in a thermal blanket, affectionately, while whispering kind words.
She traveled with me all the way back to the city, surrounding me with one arm, slowly rubbing one of my legs with her free hand and trying to comfort me. Luke, in the driver’s seat, every few minutes looked at us through the rearview mirror.
Once, when I met him through the mirror, I spoke:
“You called the lions,” I state
