Sorrow Road (Bell Elkins #5) - Julia Keller Page 0,71

took over her brain, and she could not focus on anything else except how it had felt to see Lonnie Prince drop to the carpet, his chest opening up. The color of the blood. Lonnie. Her friend. And the three old men, dying right in front of her. That, too. It all came back, over and over again.

Not so much the actual events, but how it felt to recall those events. She remembered the memories. And that’s what she could not get out of her head: the memories of the emotions, which were like the shadows of the events themselves. How weird was that?

He nodded. He did not look at her or say something stupid like, “I feel your pain” or “It will all work out”—and somehow that made it okay for her to keep on talking.

She told him about losing control in that store in the mall a week and a half ago. Why did she do it? She did not know. It seemed like the only thing she could do. Like she had to do something totally insane. Something stupid, something she’d never done before, something that was not like her at all. The opposite of her, as a matter of fact. It was the only thing that would get her anywhere close to equilibrium again. Balance. And after that: peace.

With both hands, she explained, she’d started grabbing junk off the racks—scarves and blouses and earrings and belts—and stuffing some of them in her purse and some of them in her pockets. Other things, she dumped on the floor.

Why? She did not know. She just did not know.

And then, when the cops showed up, she still did not settle down. She yelled a lot. She even took a swing at the officer. She did not connect—she was just flailing around, like a toddler in a bathtub who’s just discovered what a splash is—but still.

I almost hit a cop.

Why? She did not know that, either. She was sorry right away, but by then it was too late. Way too late. The cop cuffed her. Read out her rights. Marched her to the mall parking lot and put a hand on the top of her head and shoved her into the back of a squad car.

“Must’ve been a sight to see, you having a fit in the mall,” Travis said mildly.

She appreciated the fact that he wasn’t appalled. Nor was he titillated. He did not treat her like she was some kind of freak, or some kind of hero, either. He just listened.

“And so,” Carla said, winding up her story, “I came here. To Acker’s Gap. I had to. The trouble back there—God, I don’t even want to think about it. I can’t think about it. Somebody from the court keeps trying to call me, but I don’t answer. My roommates, too. But I can’t deal.” She shuddered. “I’m hoping I can just hang out for a while. Maybe it’ll all blow over.” She knew it wouldn’t, but just saying it made her feel better.

“Could be.” He shifted his feet. He did not think it would work, either—by now she could read his body language—but he still said it. “So what’re you going to do? Get a job?”

“Already got one.” She told him about the survey, about asking old people why they had decided, back when they were young and had a choice, to stay in West Virginia. “I’ll be starting over in Muth County on Monday. I’m supposed to go to Thornapple Terrace. The Alzheimer’s place.”

He had lit another cigarette by now. He removed it from his mouth before he spoke. “That’s where I work. And I guess I’m wondering—how much usable information do you really expect to get from people who have Alzheimer’s?”

“Not the patients. My interviews are with the staff. Most of the people they hire are old.” She clicked her tongue sheepishly. “No offense.”

“You’re right. The aides, the custodians, the office assistants—there aren’t many of us under sixty-five. At the Terrace, I’m one of the younger ones.”

“What do you do?”

“Maintenance. Keep the place up and running. Electrical, plumbing—if it needs fixed, I’m the go-to guy.” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Forgot to ask if it’s okay to smoke in here.”

“Not a problem.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Did you know that woman? The one who got killed? Who worked at the Terrace?”

“Sure did. Marcy Coates. Fine woman. Loved talking about her dog. And she really cared about the people at the