An old couple came running from a motorhome, scribbling as they ran. Their sign read, Can you check on our cat, Ariel? No one would answer that, because the cats had all been eaten. Where is my daughter? And a name. Where is my son? And a name. And whose job was it, Astrid wondered bitterly, to write the answers? Dead. Dead. Died of carnivorous worms. Died of a coyote attack. Murdered in a fight over a bag of chips. Dead of suicide. Dead because she was playing with matches and we don’t exactly have a fire department. Killed because it was the only way we could deal with him. How did one
...more
