One of my greatest fears is that eventually there will be no more work to do. Work offers a kind of numb distraction from my woes, a way to keep my hands busy while my mind stays quiet. That is, until it becomes routine. As I replaced fence posts that day, the labor slipped into muscle memory, and the demons crept into my thoughts, creeping in low and quiet.

  Why did you tell Katie you want to kiss her? What a wretched thing! To decide that you have to leave your girlfriend and her daughter because you’re a killer, but then entertain starting a new life with a new woman.

  If it is not yet obvious, reader, I am a man given to fear. I live in a constant state of dread, waiting for the next woe to crest the horizon like a thunderstorm I can already smell. When I enter into any relationship; whether friendly, familial, or otherwise; I do so knowing that a countdown has begun. That clock ticks toward the moment when I say or do the thing that makes the other person despise me.

  Not long before that patricidal night, I had the biggest fight I’d had so far with Lilah. Ultimately, it was a difference over politics, which in retrospect seems like a foolish thing to argue about. What made me snap, though, was not that we disagreed, or even why we disagreed. It was that she mockingly used the phrase “blah blah blah” to shrink my beliefs down to nothing, and then said I was na?ve because of my youth. I suppose those are the hazards of getting romantically involved with a woman ten years older than me.

  It became clear that she saw me as a child rather than a man, and so dismissed anything I had to say about matters that counted. What stung worst of all was that the only time she had nothing negative to say about me was when we went to bed. There she had nothing but praise.

  I’ve tried to share my frustrations about this with other men in the past, but all they could offer was, “Sounds like a dream come true,” followed by sarcastic remarks like, “Oh, you poor thing, your cougar girlfriend thinks you’re a good lay?”

  I was six when I was molested, and fifteen by the time I understood the horror of it. After that, I could feel it in my flesh, as though it were still happening. Even when I was intimate with Lilah, I found myself in pain, because it dragged me back to what happened then.

  Yet despite my suffering and terror, I pushed on and did whatever Lilah asked of me. I told myself that if I obeyed, she would never leave. It’s strange what levels of humiliation and discomfort we accept when the alternative feels worse. A man might let a stranger cut off his foot if it means keeping his hand.

  Did you leave Lilah and Ophelia because you’re a killer now? Or did you decide to become a killer because you wanted an excuse to abandon them?

  I tried to ignore Thorn’s newest prodding, but my work could not give me enough peace to drown out his accusations.

  That night, you knew what was coming, he continued. You could have run away to live with Lilah, be the father Ophelia needs. You knew your life in that house was finished, but instead of running, you picked up the gun.

  Lilah deserves better than a killer for a lover, said another voice, But Katie? It’s just fine if she endures a murderous boyfriend?

  I rejected Katie, I responded.

  Better tell her that, said yet another voice in my head. When she asked if you’d kiss her, you didn’t say you wouldn’t, you said you couldn’t.

  Screw off!

  The sound of tires chewing gravel scattered the voices, and I was grateful for the interruption.

  Until I saw what caused it. A sheriff’s deputy car rolled in, Cody behind the wheel. He pulled up in front of the house and stepped out.

  Here for Katie? I wondered, weighing whether it would be wiser to keep my distance or step in.

  Lloyd reached him first, and they stood too far away for me to hear what was said. I watched every second, every shift in posture and glance, trying to read the truth in their movements. When Lloyd looked toward me and motioned for me to come closer, the urge to run surged up instead. Beyond Lloyd’s fence stretched a wide wilderness of forests and canyons, a hundred places where a man could vanish.

  But if I ran, it would only bring more trouble to this kind family who had taken me in. Cody would search the loft, and there he would find the license plate and pistol tucked beneath the mattress. Lloyd would be arrested for accessory to crime. Soon there would be a full manhunt in the foothills. I pictured bloodhounds baying on my trail and helicopters cutting the dark with their lights.

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  So instead, I crossed the field toward them, and together we entered the house. In the living room, Lloyd gestured for me to sit, and I did, while Carol, Derek, and Katie took the couch. Cody settled into a rocking chair across from me, and Lloyd stood with his arms folded, his back to the wall.

  “Alex, is it?” asked Cody.

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “I need to ask you a few questions,” said Cody, opening a notepad and clicking his pen. “Where were you at about nine-thirty last night?”

  The clock had been the least of my concerns the night before, but I answered as best I could. “I was at The Crossroads, playing pool with Katie and some of her friends.”

  “No, see…” Cody scratched the back of his head. “I already checked on that. Mickey, the bartender at Crossroads, says you left at about nine. So, where did you go after that?”

  I knew exactly what he was doing. He was using his badge as a flimsy excuse to stalk his ex-girlfriend and bully any man who came near her. Under normal circumstances, it might have paid to push back, or even go to the sheriff and report the abuse.

  But killers on the run don’t get that luxury. We don’t ask the law to clean up our messes.

  “Why?” I asked. “What’s this all about?”

  “There was another gas station robbery in the county last night,” said Cody. “So, I’ve got to check alibis of all suspicious characters in the area.”

  Derek sneered. “Local news said the robbery happened at about 8:45, not 9:30.”

  “Local news got it wrong,” Cody snapped. “Now, Alex, where were you at 9:30?”

  “In Katie’s car,” I said. Heat flooded my face, and though my back was turned to Lloyd, I could feel his anger rising behind me. The muscles in my lower back tightened, bracing for violence I’d grown too familiar with.

  “Where?” he pressed.

  “I… I’m not sure,” I said. “Up in the mountains, among the trees.”

  “And what were you doing there?” asked Cody.

  “Talking.”

  Cody lifted an eyebrow. “Sitting in a car with a girl, alone in the dark, just talking?”

  “You ought to try it sometime,” I said. “It’s fun.”

  The attempt at humor only fueled his temper. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened. Behind me, I heard Lloyd draw a slow breath, the kind a man takes when he is forcing himself to stay calm.

  “Just talking?” Cody pressed.

  “Yes,” said Katie, disgust edging her voice. “All we did was talk. And then I drove us home.”

  Cody stared at her for a long moment before turning back to me. “One more thing. You said your name was Alex. You have a last name?”

  “Foster,” I said, the alias tumbling out before I could think.

  “Alex Foster...” The deputy scratched his chin. “Ain’t there a musician by that name?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I knew a guy named Bryan Adams. Common names are common.”

  “Got an ID on you?”

  “Why?”

  “I need to see it,” he said.

  “Am I being detained?” I asked, pins and needles crawling along my arms as I fought the urge to shake.

  “No,” said Cody.

  “Then I don’t have to give you my ID,” I said.

  “Yes, you do,” said Cody.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a cop.”

  “No,” said Lloyd, anger threading his voice. “He doesn’t have to give you anything. I’ll thank you to remember that I know Sheriff Dawes, and he don’t take kindly to deputies lying to folks about their rights.”

  Cody’s eyes bulged for a heartbeat, but he exhaled and stood. “I think I’ve got all I need. Alibi checks out. Just be careful if you head out at night. Apparently, this county ain’t as safe as it used to be.”

  After the deputy left, I went back to work, saying little to Lloyd or his family. That lasted until Lloyd joined me by the fence.

  He didn’t waste time, getting right to what was bothering him. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

  I shrugged. “I have no intentions, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed as he folded his arms. “That’s not as reassuring as you might think.”

  “I’m sorry. Look, nothing happened. Like I said, and like Katie says, we were just talking. That’s all.”

  “Alright, well…” Lloyd paused, studying me. “Put yourself in my shoes for a minute. Imagine you’ve got a daughter.”

  My thoughts drifted to Ophelia, the closest thing I’d ever had to one.

  “Now imagine you went out on a limb for a stranger,” Lloyd said. “The fella looks like a kicked puppy, so you invite this stray to live with you. Then you find out he panics when cops show up, he carries a gun, and he won’t say who he is or where he came from.”

  I dreaded the answer to my next question, but I had to ask. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No!” He lifted his hands to calm me. “It’s my Christian duty to look after you, but you need to understand what that means. You say ‘nothing happened’ like that’s something to brag about, but making sure nothin’ happens is the bare minimum. You will NOT have sex with my daughter while you live on my land. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, nodding hard. “I’d never betray you like that.”

  “And one more thing.” He scratched at his stubbled jaw. “I know she’s a young woman and you’re a young man. Feelings like that happen. If you decide to court her, you will be a gentleman. Are we clear.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That means while I ain’t gonna make you spill your deep dark secrets to me, you’re gonna be honest with her. If you start feeling something and want to act on it, you tell her who you really are and what you’re runnin’ from. If you lie to her and break her heart… I might just have to kill ya. Understand?”

  Why is it the way of men that we feel such a need to say we’re going to kill each other?

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I understand.”

  That seemed to satisfy him, and he walked away, leaving me alone with a heavy knot in my chest. It felt like even after escaping my father, I had not escaped a world where death threats were simply part of the landscape.