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take care of you—we’ll take care of you,” I promised as Dusty greeted her with a teddy bear he found in Kate’s room.
    “It’s okay. Go ahead. Take it,” I assured her to, and she did—hesitantly.
    I didn’t want to pry more than I should—she made me nervous.
    “You can stay the night, if you want, and we’ll try getting you home in the morning,” I said, but she was already drifting, whispering something that sounded like “that’s good, butter,” with the bear comfortably clenched in her arms.
    “That’s good butter?”
    The sun had set, and that was my cue to batten down the hatches. I’d become paralyzed at the thought of the Deviants making their rounds, and I wanted to run to my tub and hide, but didn’t.
    Tonight, they didn’t come—no monsters, no voices, or any helicopters flying over the house—only Jane remained.
     
     

THE COLD SNAP
    Thursday, January 2 nd , 2014
    6:48 a.m.
     
    It’s another day, the sun is rising over Queens, and Jane Doe is getting cleaned up in the kitchen. Time to start on breakfast.
    It didn’t look like much, but SPAM and potato chips had become the staple breakfast for us in the household. I’m beginning to think the dog eats better than we do. Cooper gets the Sirloin Steak in a can courtesy of Alpo, and we have potato chips.
    What’s good for the dog couldn’t be that bad for us, right? No one had to know.
    Jane hobbled around, pale and looking like she could use extra meat on her bones. Even so, she was a knockout and more so in my overgrown Jets jersey and sweat pants. A woman in sweats is sometimes sexy and godammit, I love the Jets.
    I am so disappointed in myself.
    The way her reddish hair fell over her eyes every time she tucked it back behind her ears and smiled, eased my concern that she was a lunatic.
    I watched her every move, trying to find the crack in the glass, but she was so soft and almost perfect.
    What’s her story, Charlie? Detox? The crazy house? Attempted suicide? Homicide?
    I knew it was only a matter of time before the reality came crawling back in and she started falling apart again, so I didn’t bring it up—still, she made me nervous.
    She must’ve clipped the bracelet when I wasn’t looking because it was absent from her wrist. She knows I know now. What was she trying to hide?
    I told her Dusty was my son and his mother recently passed away from an illness. Which is why he was the way he was—difficult, doesn’t talk, and urinates on my furniture.
    I also had an innocent habit of changing the subject whenever she’d inquire about the iron bars on my windows or the dead bolts on the doors or why Dusty was wearing girl’s clothing and his room was pink.
    Fat flurries of snow hurried past the living room windows. It was the first snowfall this year, and I proposed we migrate to the porch to sit among the debris from the house with a juice box for Dusty and spiked coffee for ourselves. My guest has cut into my drinking time, and it was way past happy hour.
    I kept my eyes peeled but good ol’ Cooper can sense the Deviants’ presence minutes before they can be seen.
    Dogs are good like that. I wish I were as vigilant—or sober.
    The pinwheel I stole from the Sweeney yard kept Dusty occupied most of the time on the porch.
    He can sit, hypnotized by the wheel for hours and didn’t like me much when I pried it from his fingers when it was time to get him cleaned up and ready for bed.
    “I should get going,” Jane said as the day dimmed, rising from the lawn chair carefully balancing on one foot without falling over.
    “What? Don’t go. I mean, going where?” I said, almost feeling relieved she’d soon be gone.
    I also realized I’d be alone again and the mystery girl would be back out there with the wolves. It gets dark early these days. The sun sets by 5 p.m., and then the guests arrive.
    “I think I have to go back to the hospital,” she answered, searching for a reason the way someone would look around the room