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Below you'll find a listing of law enforcement police agencies that have access to a server providing information on Sex Offender Registries (SOR).These registries were the outgrowth of Megan's Laws. There were no words to express how sorry they were. He sat with his back straight, hand folded over hook in his lap. Back in the staff room, Portia was biting her nails and Dennis was stirring the instant tea. Another woman was waiting at the counter, with a fluffy white cat in a hand carrier. “Someone will be right with you,” Naomi said, and turned to the man. ” Portia took over at the front desk and Naomi showed him back to the kennel office where Dennis was waiting. She sat in a metal folding chair on the side of the room. Dennis sat behind the desk and began by saying there was some unfortunate news. With so many animals going in and out all the time, they relied on a set of lists, and somehow Barbie had been put on the wrong one.He walked up to her and rested his elbows on the counter, and from that position looked normal, except for the one hand that was a carbon fiber hook. No room in shelters at neighboring counties or their neighboring counties. ” “Yep.” “All right.” “Good news is, there’s a young couple here, with a little kid, and they want a dog. She checked her list against the log and the roster, as she always did. She would have noticed any special instructions or changes to an animal’s status. In the kennel she took the quiet dachshund with cataracts out of its cage and led it to the room in back. Dennis caught Naomi’s eye and bit his lip, but she ignored him. Dennis left to check on Portia and Naomi walked to the window. Slowly, she supposed, and there was nothing wrong with that. ” He came forward and took the cup, drank and handed it back. It was not exactly like offering comfort, but what else was there? His fog dissipated somewhat and was replaced by pain and anger. The well-behaved shepherd mix that had come off the street with old injuries, a bad limp and a missing ear, went on the list. That had been the original plan: stay in Cola for a year, get experience at the shelter, then apply to vet schools, where she would need professional composure. She put her arm up to shield her eyes and waited for words to come. The cup in her hand was nearly full—he hadn’t taken more than a sip. His father sold the work truck and went on disability, and became an affable but spooky presence around the house—the pain meds made him foggy, and he spent the majority of his time sitting in the recliner in the living room, watching the TV whether it was on or not. His mother started work as a gas station attendant to help with the finances. It sucked the air out of her lungs and made her skin burn. She wore blue eye shadow and golden hoop earrings that would fit around a fire extinguisher. ” Portia slapped the pen down and leaned forward gravely. Her husband was a paralegal with an hour-long commute to Pine Bluff. The two long walls were lined with tiled enclosures and chain-link gates. She considered appropriateness, comfort level, and whether or not she was going insane. Big goofy smile.” To calm a fever, Naomi’s mother had once forced her to take an ice bath. Inside the waiting room, Portia manned the front desk. Besides the shelter, she did hair at A Cut Above and tended bar at The De Soto. He was in his fifties, tall and portly, with white, Martin Van Buren-style muttonchops and an endless supply of pale blue, short-sleeved button-down shirts. She stirred and stepped behind him to read over his shoulder. “Probably just a half-day’s work, if you want to go at it like that.” On the clipboard was a single sheet of paper, a simple black-and-white grid. She took a pencil and the clipboard to the kennel, a large, rectangular room with a smooth concrete floor and fluorescent lights. She tried them on and narrowed the choices to a green halter that tied at the neck, and a simple black v-neck.
Dennis was marking up a form on a clipboard and Portia was mixing tea. State law required strays to be held for forty-eight hours. At the bar.” “You’re kidding.” “What are we supposed to do? The father, apparently, had been forced to take a position, and decided against reptiles.It figured that the most attractive man in town her age was also a triple amputee. The breed rescues in Jackson and Shreveport were sympathetic, but unable to get anyone to Cola until later in the week. She could cover her student loans and still save a little, and living by herself was nice after four years of dorm life. She took drives on the weekends, but never back home, though it was only three hours away. The way to do it was simply to do it, the quicker the better, and try not to think too much. Without a chip, no collar, we can’t know.” “But I called.” “That’s true.” Dennis did not look at Naomi. The lists are usually always cross-checked.” Fisher nodded and looked at the window. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked up at the ceiling. She raised the blinds and saw Fisher out in the cotton field, pacing slowly in the rows with that odd, robotic walk. Having two fewer dependents did restructure the family’s benefits categorization, so Mr.It was so hot out that even he was wearing shorts—red mesh ones with a faded Cola High School crest, below which were hi-tech black metal prosthetics inserted in grubby tennis shoes. The no-kill rescue groups in El Dorado and Pine Bluff were overloaded. So she stared across the cotton field until the back of her neck was burning, then she went back inside the shelter and through the waiting room and back to the kennel office. It was painted a dark blue and its eyes were wide and bright. Head tilted back, he laughed once through his nose. A mistake had been made, but the numbers all but guaranteed mistakes. The first time she’d seen him at the corner mart, she couldn’t help wondering how he dealt with the items on the low shelves. Bray switched from a battery of prescriptions to over-the-counter cocktails. She made a casual circuit around the room, considering. The plants will buy remains.” Fisher looked at her. She wondered if his prosthetics absorbed the heat from the sun, if that was a concern. In middle school, his mother encouraged him to go out for football as a way to make friends. She got out two nights ago and somebody brought her here I guess. The PTS list started as a page of blanks—Dennis’s calculations produced a number, and a corresponding number of empty spaces for recording the work. Not counting walk-ins—and there were always some—Naomi needed to pick thirteen dogs to put down. Cola was hot and flat, and though the new side yard had a beech stump good for holding BB gun targets, it was a poor replacement for the dryer.