Hæra’s reaction to their mini-tour of the Mainland had let Madeleine know she was telling the truth: she didn’t leave Jorsay much, and she’d seen precious little of the rest of Orkney. In fact, you’d think she’d never seen a city in her life. Even Kirkwall—which Madeleine struggled to think of as a “city” per se—seemed to astonish Hæra. She kept her eyes wide open, looking in shop windows with fascination and pointing out people who struck her as remarkable in one way or another. A husband and wife speaking Russian (“I’ve never heard that language before!”), a man so tall he loomed over everyone else (“I suppose he feels self-conscious a lot.”), and another couple shepherding their five children through the streets (“They must really enjoy having sex.”).

Madeleine hadn’t been able to summon even a choked reprimand at the last one. Hæra’s tone hadn’t been suggestive or mischievous at all—she might have been making any ordinary observation. Not that anything about Hæra was ordinary.

That was as evident now as ever. They’d been served ten minutes ago, and Hæra had still spent more time looking around the restaurant than eating. “How’s your dinner?” Madeleine asked.

Hæra started—she had been looking at the bar—and glanced down at her plate of fish and chips. “It’s very…cooked,” she said.

“You mean overdone?” Their haddock filets seemed perfectly golden and crispy.

“I suppose. Yes.” Hæra looked back at the bar. “Do you enjoy alcoholic drinks?”

No way was she telling Hæra about the Applebee’s cocktails. “On occasion. You?”

“Jonathan doesn’t keep alcohol in the house, and my family didn’t drink. I’ve never tried it.”

Madeleine’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“On my honor.” Hæra turned her sharp eyes back on Madeleine. “Should I try it tonight?”

“You’ve honestly never had a drink until now.” Yes, she sounded skeptical, but so what? At least that was honest. “You never snuck a beer with your friends or tried it on your own?”

Hæra didn’t seem offended by Madeleine’s naked disbelief. “I didn’t really have friends. Alcohol wasn’t part of our culture. And I’ve heard it’s sad to drink alone.”

More puzzle pieces to put together. Madeleine could barely keep up with them all. Hæra had grown up moving from place to place with a spotty education and few social skills. She’d also indicated that she might have been forced to read the Bible growing up. Now Madeleine learned alcohol wasn’t “part of the culture.” Had Hæra been raised among religious extremists? Maybe even in a cult?

Maybe you shouldn’t judge people whose lives were shaped by dogmatic religious practice, she thought ruefully, especially when they get away from it.