5 #2
That startled a laugh out of Tean, and he nodded.
“It certainly is.” He held up his phone as it buzzed again.
“Seth is trying to run interference, as usual. They’re getting together at my dad’s tomorrow to plan the funeral.
He’s asking me to come because, quote, ‘We’d all love for you to be there, and I know it would mean a lot to Dad. ’”
“Are you going to go?”
“I have to.”
“Well, you don’t have to.”
“Yeah, Jem, I kind of do.”
Jem was wise enough—sometimes—to know when to stop.
“Anyway,” Tean said, “that’s a problem for tomorrow, and we have more pressing things to worry about.”
“Like the fact that these psychos are definitely after Amy?”
“That’s at the top of my list, yes.”
Tean’s hand was warm inside Jem’s. The doc was so thin—everywhere, all over, but it seemed extra noticeable in his hands, like they were nothing but skin and bones.
And calluses, Jem added with a mental smile as he found a callus in question and ran a finger over it.
Because of course Tean had calluses. He was out roping moose and hogtying wild steers and wrestling polar bears.
Maybe not polar bears. Grizzly bears. Did they have grizzly bears in Utah? Jem was pretty sure the answer was no.
“Why us?” Tean asked.
Jem ran his fingers over the ridge of calluses again. He followed Tean’s fingers with his own. So thin. If you caught him at the wrong angle, the doc looked like the wind might blow him away. Which was silly, because Tean was the strong one.
“It’s not fair,” Tean said. “I know that sounds childish. I know it sounds—well, selfish.” A brittle laugh slipped out of him. “Maybe Amos was right. Why us, Jem?”
“Because she’s scared, and she doesn’t know where else to go.”
“But we can’t do anything. We can’t help her.”
It was almost a shout.
Jem nodded.
“What are we supposed to do?” Tean asked. “Are we supposed to investigate? We’re not law enforcement officers. We don’t have the resources or the training or the authority. It’s not our job, Jem. This is the whole reason we have a police force.”
“She went to the police,” Jem said. “They think she’s making it up.”
“Then take them to her house. Show them what we found.”
Jem didn’t say anything. Because it was a fresh scratch on the doorjamb, that was all. And there was always going to be another explanation.
“And if we don’t help her,” Tean said, “if we don’t do whatever we can, she’s going to get killed, just like River. Those lunatics aren’t going to give up. They never give up.”
“They can’t give up,” Jem said. “She’s a threat, even if she doesn’t know why. They’ve got to get rid of her.”
Tean shook his head. “They arrested someone for River’s murder. I was standing twenty feet from her when she was killed. I saw it. I saw him. And did they pull me in for a lineup? Did they show me a photo pack? Nothing.”
Jem turned Tean to face him. “Tean, we don’t owe anybody anything. We already went above and beyond with her tonight. We’ve got our own lives. Nobody would blame us if we let the police handle it.”
“Mis-handle it, more like.”
“It’s not wrong to want to live your own life. It’s not selfish. Or maybe it is, but that’s okay. You’re entitled to live your own life.”
Tean nodded. He took his glasses off and squeezed his eyes shut like he was trying to clear them. And then his face relaxed. When he opened his eyes, he looked younger. The shape of his face was different—familiar and not, all at the same time. Because this was how he looked when he slept.
“Last year,” Tean said, “when I was…struggling, I told you I knew the universe was a bad place. And I accepted that I couldn’t change it. And I couldn’t change what I’d done. But I could try to do better. And doing better meant helping other people.”
“You don’t have to help everyone.”
“I don’t know,” Tean said. “Maybe we do. Or maybe we should try, anyway.” Jem opened his mouth, but Tean spoke first: “What about Daniel?”
Jem shut his mouth.
A minivan turned into the parking lot. It rolled down one aisle.
Then the next. Then it parked, and a middle-aged man helped a much older woman out of the passenger seat.
He was wearing an NRA ball cap and a satin Red Sox jacket.
She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that said APPRENTICE HOMOSEXUAL.
Jem made a mental note that he had a new life goal.
“They were watching Daniel,” Tean said. “They already tried to get him once. That’s what Ammon told you. That’s what you told me. What do you think they’re going to do after they get rid of Amy?”
“Who are you trying to convince?” Jem asked. “You or me?”
After a moment, Tean put his glasses on again. A tired smile crept across his face. “I honestly don’t know.”
Jem laughed. “Okay. I guess we’re going to do this.”
“I’ll text her for River’s notes.”
“Sounds like a good start.”
“If we can figure out what River knew, maybe we can use it to find them.”
And then what, Jem wanted to ask. The police didn’t want to find them. Didn’t want to even believe they were real. What do we do when we find them?
But all he said was “See, this is why I tell everyone you’re so smart.”
They drove home.
Scipio was happy to see them, and he made sure Jem knew that he was up for another round of fetch, but he settled for a quick potty and then climbing onto their bed to watch them as they took turns brushing their teeth, washing their faces, and changing into their pajamas—an actual pajama set for Tean, this one printed with black Labs, which Jem had found and bought for him; and for Jem, a cotton tee with NAPS ARE GAY, RIGHT?
on it. He decided the next sleep shirt would say APPRENTICE HOMOSEXUAL.
Tean fell asleep quickly, his breathing evening out.
Scipio was already snoring softly, one leg kicking in a dream.
Jem lay there for a while. The exhaustion crept in on him, dragged him down.
But in a weird way, getting into bed and turning off the lights had seemed to wake up some part of his brain that had been asleep for a long time.
It had been a small bathroom: sink, toilet, tub. The wallpaper had been red and blue balloons. One of those three-door mirrored medicine cabinets.
His own eyes staring back at him.
Fumbling for the lock, the metal greasy under his skin.
The thud as a grown man’s weight collided with the wood.
The door bucked in the frame. It had hurt Jem’s shoulder. But he’d been a lot smaller then.
He didn’t think about it. Reached for his phone in the dark, unlocked it, typed. Erased and typed again. He was tired. He kept hitting the wrong keys, and address had those double letters.
had a result for Wendell King.
And an address.
Tean rolled over in his sleep. His hand skated over Jem’s arm, and he made a noise in his throat, and Jem locked the phone and dropped it onto his chest.
Tean made the noise again. A question.
“Go back to sleep,” Jem whispered. “Everything’s okay.”