“Sam. This cabin belonged to your dad. You found out about it when he died. That was fairly recent,” Sariel says.
“Well, why is there a jail cell?”
“Your dad was always a bad person. He was shitty to you, abused you as a child and eventually left your mom for another woman. He was always just doing the wrong thing. I don’t know why an accountant had a cabin in the woods with a jail cell in it, and neither do you.”
“So, you don’t live here? Tulsa isn’t your dog?”
“No, Tulsa is your animal, but you and I spend a lot of time together, and she sees me here a lot,” Sariel says.
“Ah, fuck man, and you had made up this crazy story in your head about how people were out to get you,” Joey says.
I walk over to the kitchen and once again place the knife back in the block, while saying “none of this explains why I woke up outside in a shallow grave with a head injury,” I say.
Sariel puts her hand in mine, looks me in the eyes and says: “your family. You don’t remember them?”
“Like my dad and mom? No, I don’t.”
“Can I see your wallet?” she asks.
I hand it to her, and she opens it up, finding a compartment that is somewhat hidden, a place where you might expect to find larger amounts of cash. She pulls out photos from there and hands them to me. There is a photo of an attractive brunette women with almond shaped eyes, and two lovely children, girls.
“Are these my kids?”
“Yes. Your wife and your kids. Do you remember them?”
“No. Where are they? Can I meet them. Ah, I mean, see them. Can I see them?” I ask.