Chapter 4
Lucy was standing in the yard.
For a moment, when Tean saw her, he forgot he was driving. He hadn’t seen her, not in person, since everything with Ammon had exploded. In profile, she looked unchanged: long blond hair, a stylishly oversized cardigan, jeans that showed off a trim figure.
And then the mailbox surged up in the corner of his vision, and Tean turned the wheel so he wouldn’t clip it with a side mirror.
But even the surge of adrenaline at the near miss felt sluggish. Three hours of driving. Three hours of worrying as he worked his way south, inching through the congestion around Salt Lake, and then south again. Three hours of telling himself to go home.
It’s none of your business.
But he shifted the truck into park and got out.
South Jordan was a city at the bottom of the Salt Lake Valley, and for most of Tean’s life, it had been a middle-class community.
Or what middle-class had meant before Utah began to change.
The homes had been, for the most part, small, built in the ’60s and ’70s and ’80s on nice-sized lots.
The last fifteen years, though, had brought changes.
More people were moving to Utah. People with money.
And that meant new homes were being built, widening the sprawl of the I-15 corridor, and even older homes were being bought at outrageous prices.
South Jordan was also home.
Tean’s parents lived ten minutes from where he stood. Ammon’s parents too.
This house was a brick rambler with an old birch growing at one corner and a wrack line of yellow leaves running diagonally across the lawn.
A South Jordan police cruiser was parked at the curb, behind an unmarked black SUV.
A uniformed officer emerged from the house—White, his hair buzzed, the first hint of the jowls of middle age—spoke into his phone for a moment, and then ducked back inside.
When Tean got out of the truck, Lucy looked over. She started to turn back to the house, then her gaze swung to Tean. Her expression didn’t change, but she adjusted her arms, hugging herself.
“Are you okay?” Tean asked as he crossed the lawn. She didn’t answer, and he heard how hollow the question sounded. “What happened?”
For a moment, she pressed her lips together. Then, in cool, controlled tones, she said, “They showed up at the door with a warrant. The kids weren’t here, thank goodness. They took Ammon.”
“They’re still searching the house?”
This didn’t merit a response either.
“What are they looking for?” Tean asked.
Lucy shook her head and turned her gaze back to the house.
“They must have given you a copy of the search warrant,” Tean said. Too many afternoons watching reruns of cop shows with Jem.
“They gave it to Ammon,” she said. But she produced a sheaf of folded pages from where she held it under her arm, and she handed it over.
The part Tean wanted to see was at the top of the affidavit, where Agent Cady Trevino of the State Bureau of Investigation listed the Young residence as the location to be searched.
Below that, she described the “property or evidence” that the warrant authorized them to look for and, if found, take.
Affiant seeks authority to search the residence of Ammon Young, including all rooms, outbuildings, garages, storage areas, and vehicles found on the premises, for the following items which may constitute evidence of the crime of Homicide (Utah Code 76-5-203) in connection with the death of Brennon Lee, discovered in the Uinta Basin on October 15, 2019:
Articles of clothing, footwear, gloves, and outerwear belonging to the suspect, bearing possible blood, soil, plant matter, fibers, or other trace material consistent with the crime scene.
Laundry, linens, rags, or cleaning supplies which may contain biological traces of the victim or evidence of attempts to destroy or conceal evidence.
Rope, cords, belts, straps, tarps, or other items capable of being used to restrain, transport, or conceal the victim.
Any knives, tools, or sharp objects bearing blood, hair, or tissue, or otherwise consistent with use in the commission of a violent crime.
Electronic devices, including cellular telephones, computers, tablets, external storage media, and digital cameras, which may contain evidence of communications with the victim, location data, or documentation of the crime.
Written materials, journals, notebooks, or maps tending to show motive, planning, or knowledge of the crime scene area.
Personal papers, receipts, fuel purchases, or travel records consistent with trips to or from the Uinta Basin at or near the time of the homicide.
Footwear consistent in size and tread pattern with impressions recovered near the crime scene.
Vehicles located at the residence, including keys, registration documents, and contents of said vehicles, for trace evidence, soil/plant comparisons, and GPS/location data.
Photographs, video recordings, or digital files depicting the victim, the crime scene, or evidence of the suspect’s presence in the Uinta Basin.
Any items containing latent prints, hairs, fibers, or biological evidence belonging to the victim.
DNA reference samples from the suspect, to be collected via buccal swab for laboratory comparison with evidence recovered from the victim and crime scene.
“It’s insane,” Lucy said, hugging herself more tightly. Her whole body was locked on to the house, where, on the other side of the windows, uniformed men moved. “It’s got to be some kind of mistake.” Her shoulders moved once, unevenly, and she burst out, “He’s a police officer!”
But it wasn’t a mistake. The search warrant meant it wasn’t a mistake.
The probable cause statement ran to almost five pages of single-spaced text.
And while some of it was clearly boilerplate, giving background information on Agent Trevino—literally going back to her completion of the Utah Police Officers Standards and Training, and then following her through each stage of her career until she was hired by the State Bureau of Investigation, including every degree, training, course, and certification she’d completed along the way—near the end, it got into the specifics, as Trevino attempted to convince a judge there was probable cause to search Ammon’s home.
On October 15, 2019, deputies of the Uintah County Sheriff’s Office responded to a report of a deceased male inside a mesa cave located in the Uinta Basin, Utah.
The male was identified as Brennon Lee, age 42.
Examination at the scene revealed multiple stab wounds to the back.
The body was transported to the Utah Office of the Medical Examiner, where preliminary findings confirmed death by sharp-force trauma.
Your Affiant learned through the course of witness interviews that several days prior to his death, the victim was involved in a physical altercation with Ammon Young, age 37, a resident of South Jordan, Utah.
Witnesses described the altercation as heated and physical in nature, during which Mr. Young struck the victim and made verbal threats, stating words to the effect that he would kill him.
Your Affiant further learned from witness statements that the victim had been engaged in an unlawful sexual relationship with Daniel Young, the fifteen-year-old son of the suspect. The existence of this relationship provides motive for Ammon Young to harm the victim.
Your Affiant believes, based on the above facts—the prior physical altercation, threats made by Ammon Young against the victim, and the existence of motive arising from the victim’s unlawful relationship with Daniel Young—that there is probable cause to believe that evidence of the homicide of Brennon Lee will be located within the residence, vehicles, and electronic devices of Ammon Young.
Oh God. The thought was attenuated, echoing in the vast, empty dark Tean suddenly found himself floating in.
Daniel.
“Excuse me,” a voice said. “Who are you?”
A woman stepped out of the house. She was Latina, with a broad face and dark hair that she wore up in a bun.
Her dark windbreaker looked official, and where it hung open, the seal of the State Bureau of Investigation showed on her polo.
Khakis and a pair of tactical boots completed the outfit.
She strode across the lawn, a notebook forgotten in one hand.
“I’m a friend of the family,” Tean said.
If you’d turned Lucy’s smile on its side, it could have cut glass.
“What’s your name?” the woman said.
“Teancum Leon. Who are you?”
The woman fixed flat, dark eyes on him, but she spoke to Lucy. “This is the man your husband asked you to call?”
“Yes,” Lucy said.
“Are you representing Mr. Young?”
“I’m not an attorney,” Tean said. “Who are you?”
“Agent Trevino, SBI.” Dead eyes continued to hold him. “Why did Mr. Young ask his wife to call you?”
Lucy’s smile grew.
Tean tried not to look at her. “I’m a friend of the family.”
Maybe it was some sixth sense cops had, because Trevino said, “But why’d he ask her to call you?”
“I don’t know.” Heat rose in Tean’s face. “You’ll have to ask him.”
“I’m going to do that.”
“What did you find?”
“You’ll get an itemized list of everything we remove.”
“Ammon didn’t kill this man. Ammon wouldn’t kill anybody.” But Jem’s face floated in Tean’s mind. And the nights Ammon had followed Tean. The nights Tean had gone out on dates, and after—without Tean knowing—Ammon had threatened those men. And Daniel was only fifteen. “You’re wrong.”
“Mr. Leon, go home. There’s nothing for you to do here.”
“What did you find in the house?”
“Mrs. Young,” Trevino said, “you may want to wait with a neighbor. This is going to take some more time.”
“What did you find?” Tean asked. “You came here looking for evidence because you didn’t have any proof Ammon hurt this man. But you arrested him. So, what did you find?”
Trevino’s smooth gaze slid to Lucy, and although she didn’t say the words aloud, they hung in the air: You didn’t tell him?
“He confessed,” Lucy said with a disbelieving laugh. “Ammon confessed.”