Dead? That'll never stick. And what a very specific way of phrasing she has. "Not allowed?" This is already setting off his paranoia. What exactly has he stepped in, that being 'allowed' is even in question? He can almost feel the walls closing in around him, which is odd, considering he's still out of doors on a bright-but-cold winter's day.

Well, she hasn't been here long, how hard can she have tried to escape? This thought lets him rein in his rising sense of foreboding, if only a bit.