Chapter 25
The cops came. They were locals, from the nearby town of Roosevelt, and the first one to arrive was a man in his thirties who had mustard at the corner of his mouth.
An older man showed up next, in shoes that clearly hurt his feet.
And then the classic model arrived: salt-and-pepper high-and-tight, a trim little beaver cleaner on his upper lip, barking orders at everyone.
Jem knew the type.
The cops separated him and Tean. They asked a lot of questions and then put them in the back of separate cars. And then, after a while, the cop with the bad arch support and the one who’d been eating turkey and mustard drove them out of there.
They ended up inside the Roosevelt municipal building, where the police station was located.
Their escort stuck Tean in an interview room and cuffed Jem to a chair.
Next to a desk. With paperclips and everything.
When the turkey-and-mustard guy had to go to the john, Jem palmed several of the paperclips.
You never knew when things could go wrong.
When Jem asked, he got water in one of those paper cones, and then coffee. A woman with glasses that made her look like the owl from the Tootsie Pop commercials took some in to Tean, as well.
And then the SBI showed up.
Trevino had hollows under her eyes the size of teacups, and there was something ragged about her appearance. On anybody but a cop, Jem would have called that look strung out. Van Cleave was flushed and carrying himself like an eighth-grader spoiling for a fight.
“Took you long enough,” Jem said.
“Where’s the other one?” Trevino barked.
The cop who needed arch supports pointed, and the SBI agents pushed into the interview room.
Jem strained to hear something—anything. Raised voices. The thump of overturned furniture. Tean demanding a lawyer.
Nothing.
They were in there with Tean maybe fifteen minutes.
Then Trevino walked Tean out. The doc sagged with fatigue.
More than fatigue. His gaze passed over Jem, and he tried a smile, but behind that was the look Jem caught sometimes.
Never on the surface. Never right where he could see it.
But out of the corner of his eye, maybe.
Or like something at the bottom of a swimming pool.
It was a look like Tean was staring into something he couldn’t turn away from.
“How are you?” Jem asked as they walked Tean past him. “Tean?”
“They haven’t found Daniel.” Tean sounded like someone had turned off part of his brain. “They don’t have any idea where he is.”
“You,” Van Cleave said, and he grabbed Jem’s arm and undid the cuffs. Then he yanked Jem to his feet and marched him toward the interview room.
It was like the hillbilly cousin version of the South Jordan station. The setup was similar: a table, two chairs. But it had scuffed vinyl flooring, a broken doorjamb, and a lightbulb inside a metal cage that hung overhead. It smelled like—well, the closest Jem could come was stew.
When Trevino came back, she dropped into her seat and said, “Start talking.”
So, Jem told them: trying to figure out why the killer had brought Brennon’s body to the Uinta Basin, and their visit to the UFO campground, and then the attack in the gully.
“Ask any of them,” Jem said as he finished. “Ask that woman, Katie. She’ll tell you.”
“We already talked to the people at the campground,” Trevino said. “What do you know about the ranch?”
“Nothing.” But Trevino just looked at him. “I swear to God. Katie said they don’t like trespassers, that’s the first time I heard of it.”
“So, it was chance that you ended up at that ranch today and found that body?”
“I just told you how we got there. We were looking at the place where they found Brennon’s body. We got shot at. We followed the tracks back here.”
“Why?”
For a moment, Jem didn’t say anything. “I literally just told you.”
“Does the name Rydel Welker mean anything to you?”
“No. Who’s that? Oh fuck, is that the guy who shot at us?”
“How about this man?” Trevino produced a photo. “Have you seen him?”
The man in the picture was White, maybe in his early thirties, with dark hair cut short and dark eyes.
He had a mustache and heavy scruff, and freckles sprinkled his nose.
He was dressed casually—a trucker jacket, a T-shirt—and the photo had been taken outside, but he stared directly into the camera as though he’d been asked to pose.
“No,” Jem said. He tried to compare this man to the ones from the campground, but he couldn’t see a resemblance. “Is this Rydel Welker?”
Trevino and Van Cleave traded a look.
“Mr. Berger, I’m going to be very clear with you right now,” Trevino said. “If you don’t stay out of this investigation, I’m going to arrest you. Do you understand me?”
“I understand you’d still be scratching your asses in South Jordan if Tean and I hadn’t come here. That’s what I understand.”
Trevino rose.
“Did you figure out who tried to kill us?” Jem asked. “Is it this Rydel guy? Is that his ranch or something?”
In an official tone that almost sounded bored, Trevino said, “This is an ongoing investigation, Mr. Berger.”
“It was when Tean brought up the scars, wasn’t it? That’s what did it.”
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
“And that means that fucker Zeb or Zed or whatever his name was, it had to be him, because he was the only one close enough to hear us.”
“Be quiet,” Van Cleave said.
“You’re interfering in my investigation,” Trevino said as though he hadn’t spoken.
“Did you talk to him?” Jem asked. “Fuck, what are you even doing right now?”
Van Cleave put his hands on the table and leaned down. “Stop talking.”
“And if you continue to interfere—” Trevino said.
“You need to get out there and find him,” Jem said. “He’s probably gone by now. How are you this fucking bad at your jobs?”
“Mr. Berger—” Trevino said.
“We talked to him,” Van Cleave said. “And he gave up his brother, so don’t tell me we’re bad at our jobs.”
The look on Trevino’s face was murder. Even Van Cleave seemed to realize he’d said too much; he shrank back from the table, not meeting Trevino’s gaze.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Jem asked. “You caught somebody? No fucking way. You wouldn’t be in here busting my balls.”
“We’re done here,” Trevino said to Van Cleave. To Jem, she said, “We’re keeping the truck for processing, but your vehicle is in the parking lot outside. I suggest you go straight home.”