Page 60 of Forever Dead

“Badly.”

“What happened?”

“One of the supervisors knew me from Knoxville.”

“And?”

Curtis rubbed his thumb across the loose seam. “He told them why I got fired.”

Connor waited.

“They said I was unnecessarily inhumane with the animals.”

“What does that mean?”

Curtis’s jaw tightened. “Means I didn’t pretend they were pets. They were there to be killed.”

“Did you deliberately hurt them?”

“I did the job. Management decided I crossed a line.”

“And now?”

Curtis leaned farther into the chair. “Now everywhere I go, it feels like things follow me.”

“What kind of things?”

Curtis almost laughed.

“Everything that’s on my record.”

The sheriff moved toward the mantel. There were no photographs on it, only a broken clock, two unopened letters and a ceramic dog someone had left behind before Curtis moved in.

“You’ve got quite a record,” Connor said.

“I figured you’d seen it.”

“I have.”

“Then why ask?” Curtis said.

“Records tell me what happened. They don’t always tell me why. The details can be important.”

Curtis rubbed at the side of his neck.

“Sometimes there ain’t a why.”

“There usually is,” Connor said.

“Not one that makes it better.”

The sheriff turned toward him.

Curtis felt himself becoming irritated and forced it down. The therapist had taught him that much. Notice the anger. Name it. Do not let it decide what happens next.

“I used to get mad,” Curtis said. “I’d do things. Then I’d get mad about what happened because I did those things, and I’d do something else. It keeps going if you let it.”

The sheriff nodded once.