Page 31 of The Devil Knows Her Name

As we got to the back of the barn, which was open to create a cross breeze, he paused and looked out at the meadow and the woods beyond.

“That’s all yours?”

“That’s the real sanctuary. This is just the hospital, as it were.”

“Do you go out there?”

“Well, sure. I have to—to release animals, and just to make sure everything’s as it should be.”

“And there are real wild animals out there?”

I cocked my head. “What’s a ‘real’ wild animal?”

“Like bears and coyotes and stuff. Deer.”

“Yeah, those are out there. But these guys are wild too. In fact, lots of these are ‘wilder’ than coyotes; coyotes are adapting to urban environments fast.”

“Have you ever had to rescue one?”

“Quite a few. Had an old girl who stayed with me until the end.”

“Like a pet?”

“No, she was never that. She was pretty tolerant of me, but she stayed out here. I kept giving her the option to leave, but she didn’t. She was tired, I think. It’s hard out there. People think they’re just running through the grass with the wind in their ears, but they spend their entire lives looking for food or defending themselves or their young. I was glad she stayed and could rest before the end.”

David looked away from me, and I caught the quick movement of his hand across his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I can see that,” he said, his voice a little rough. “It doesn’t look peaceful out there. It looks wild.”

I found myself smiling. “It is. That’s exactly what it is.”

I turned and went back down the aisle a little ways, giving him a moment to himself. He followed me again after a minute, his hands still tangling in his shirt. “So you really don’t need any volunteers?”

“It’s not exactly that I don’t need them. You’re the first person to ask about it in years.”

“Really? Don’t people want to come here all the time?”

“Not so much. People in Burrsville don’t really care what I’m doing up here as long as I’m keeping the possums out of their garages. I’m used to doing it all myself, and I’ve kind of gotten it down to a science.”

“Well, what if I was your first volunteer?”

I smiled again. “Look, I think that would be great, but I kind of got the feeling that your dad wouldn’t be too happy about it. He probably wants you to focus on school. You’ve got to be a senior, right?”

“Yeah, I’m eighteen, which means I’m old enough to do my own volunteer work. Besides, I’ll need that for college.”

I suspected it would all come to nothing even if I agreed—most people were all good intentions and no follow-through when it came to volunteer work—but I didn’t want to risk drawing Zeke’s attention any more than I already had, so I changed the subject. “Where do you want to go to college?”

He blushed a little, cracked a grin that made him look so much like Norman, my head swam. “Had to call my bluff, huh? I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m even going. But it would be good experience either way.”

I sensed this was bravado, that he just didn’t want to talk about his father. I didn’t push, instead motioning for him to follow me to the feed room. I pointed to the sink. “Fair enough. Ready to wash some dishes?”

He mimed rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s do it.”

The bowls left over from breakfast were sticky with saliva, the guts of berries, the ends of mealworms, and the occasional string of flesh. David kept a pretty straight face until it came to the fox dish, which still contained half a rat tail and a few organs that looked like they’d been thoroughly chewed, then rejected.

“Yeah, it can get pretty gross,” I said. “Although I usually prefer washing up to preparing it.”

“What do you have to do for that?”

“You really want to know?”