“He got a coyote,” Tean said and turned the phone to show Jem.
Jem was still rather dramatically rubbing his eyes as he came across the room, but he took one look at the image and said, “You know this guy has, like, clinical micropenis syndrome, right?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a real diagnosis.Or a real syndrome.”
But Jem ran fingers through Tean’s hair and gave his head a little shake.“He didn’t get your wolf, huh?”
“Not yet.Apparently because he’s even stupider than I thought.”
“Or he’s trying to save face after making such a big deal out of it.God, I bet his teeny wienie shot right back up inside him when he realized he got a coyote by mistake.”
“That’s not how penises— You know what?I’m in such a good mood, I’m going to let it go.”
Jem gave his hair another tug.He looked him in the eye.He seemed to be searching for something before he finally asked, “How’re you doing?”
“Okay,” Tean said.And when Jem did a scrunchy thing with his eyes, Tean said, “Better.I promise.It’s going to take time, but I feel like— I don’t know, Jem.Like I’m on the right track, at least.”
“Okay,” Jem echoed.
“Okay.”
And then Jem kissed him.He leveled another of those assessing looks and said, “Since we’re no longer employed, and you are apparently an expert on penises now, why don’t you come back to bed?”
“Technically, I’m on leave.Not unemployed.”
“I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue.”
“Paid, uh, leave.”
Jem stretched, arms behind his head.Biceps swelled.The strong lines of his chest expanded.He didn’t have a gym body.He looked like he had a body that had gotten strong through manual labor—great shoulders, fantastic arms, powerful legs.Which was ironic, considering this was the same man who once called mowing the grassa war crime.
“Actually, I was thinking today would be a perfect chance to catch up on those YouTube videos of church demolitions—oh my gosh.”
Jem forgot the pose.“What?What happened?Oh God, you didn’t have a spontaneous attack of clinical micropenis, did you?”
Tean spared him a scowl as he got up from the sofa.“Get dressed,” he said as he hurried into the bedroom.“We’ve got to get going.”
“We do?Where?”
“Back to that campground.We need to talk to Zeb.Or Kai.Any of them.”
Jem trailed after him to the bedroom.“Uh, why?”
Tean pulled out one of his DWR work shirts.“Because Neff was right.When you want to find a wolf, you ask a rancher.”
“What does that mean?”Jem asked as he plucked the shirt from Tean’s hand.In its place, he offered a corduroy shacket.“And the tee with the otter.The police already talked to them.”
“But the police are asking the wrong questions.”
32
Mid-morning, with a clear sky, the campground looked different from the last time Jem had been there.Loose stones turned and crunched under the borrowed Subaru’s tires as they turned into the lot.The buildings and layout were all the same.But now, light hammered on the red rock, bounced off the windows of the office, and made the tips of the tall grass turn white like lightbulb filaments.
The woman, Tess, was lounging on the porch again, painting her nails.She looked up as they approached, frowned, and said, “Sorry, guys.Campground is closed.”
“That’s all right,” Jem said.“Maybe you don’t remember us.Jem.And this is Tean.We were here the other night to talk to Katie.”
“Oh my God!You’re the ones that got shot at!”She sat up, almost upsetting the nail polish balanced on her thigh.“Are you all right?”