She was looking at the stack of towels Jean had left on the mattress.
Then she put her face in her hands.
I came into the room. I sat down on the edge of the old mattress next to her.
I didn’t say anything. I just sat there.
After a while, she lifted her head. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You must think we’re all insane.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t think that.”
“You got the wrong key. You must have been terrified.”
Ezoic
“A little,” I admitted. “He locked me in the office.”
She laughed. A tired, wet laugh. “He does that. He’s afraid people will go running down the hall. Last time she was in here, a trucker heard her singing through the wall and called the sheriff. Thought somebody was being held hostage. Four deputies showed up with flashlights. Jean was so scared she climbed out the back window. Took us an hour to find her in the wheat field.”
