‘Well. Borrow them for a while. They’re very strong on that. They say it’s only the most evil of spirits who possess without permission. The Kinchuinick shape-shifter asks the animal first. It’s a long ceremony. They have respect, these people.’ She laughed nervously. Craig seemed interested.

‘And they still believe they can move about as animals?’

‘Shamans, yes. Not so much believe. They take it for granted. They can also transport themselves, their physical bodies as humans that is, across incredible distances. You’ll find the religion of the Australian Aborigine is similar in this belief. In fact, there was documented evidence that an Aboriginal man was familiar with the craters and valleys on the moon and described them in detail to an anthropologist about ten years before the first moon landing. Well, Kinchuinick shamans are the same. They claim they can move around like that. After praying and fasting of course.’

She was calmer now. Enjoying the escape of a subject she was an authority on. A safe place to hide from whatever was going on in her mind.

‘And so who are these shamans?’

‘Usually the chief, but sometimes just a medicine man or woman. It’s a respected position in the band, and it’s usually passed down, father to son, mother to daughter, whatever.’

‘Is it horseshit?’

She raised an eyebrow and tried to look amused. She was still far away from being amused. This was show. ‘Please!’

‘Come on. You know what I mean.’

‘You’re being a science bigot, Staff Sergeant. Modern medicine has a hell of a lot to learn from Indian herbal cures and hands-on healing. Some sceptics who’ve come to it have been amazed at the results. We have two papers here written by a guy from Calgary University who catalogues some incredible things if you’re interested. First-hand reports and observations. It’s academic, not speculative.’

‘So you believe it?’

‘I don’t disbelieve it.’

‘Can Mr Hunt shape-shift?’ He tried a smile with the question. He got the first visible sign from her that everything was far from good. Her voice was acid.

‘What do you think?’

He held up his hands. ‘Hey. Joke. I was just asking.’

‘My husband is not a shaman. He doesn’t shake rattles or spread herbs around the TV to make the Flames win the Stanley cup. He’s a manual groomer. He shovels snow.’

Craig waved his hands again to say he knew that.

‘Why are you interested, may I ask?’

Craig licked his lips. ‘Daniel got me interested. It’s just kind of my way of dealing with his death, showing respect I suppose. To find out more.’ His turn to lie. He was better at it. Much better. She didn’t see him struggle under the guilt of it.

‘Do you want the papers I mentioned?’

She was cold now. An ice queen offering knowledge.

‘Sure. That would be great if it’s no trouble.’