She turned to take him in.“I’m sorry.Who are you?”
“Jem Berger.We think Ammon confessed to protect someone.That’s why we need to talk to you.”
She stared at them blankly.
“Lucy,” Tean said.“Please, may we come inside?”
“I don’t—I don’t think so.”She flexed her fingers around the door handle.“The lawyer said not to talk to anybody.”
“Ammon wanted us to help,” Tean said.“That’s why he asked you to call me.”
She opened her mouth, thenoalready forming.
“Unless you did it,” Jem said.“And that’s why you don’t want to talk to us.”
Tean gave a tiny, helpless shake of his head.
Color rose in Lucy’s cheeks.“That’s insane.”
“Why?”Jem asked.“He’s protectingsomeone.Why not you?I mean, it makes sense.You’re a mother.You’ve got a mother’s protective instinct.You find out some guy—”
“Stop.”The words came out jerky and mechanical.“Stop.Stop!”
“Of course you were angry.And then the police showed up, and Ammon realized what you’d done.So, he confessed.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”She seemed to be trying to come up with more, but all that came out was “You need to leave.”
“Lucy—” Tean tried.
“Why not?”Jem asked.“You’re his wife.”
“We only need a few minutes.”
“The mother of his children.”
“Please, just so we can ask a few questions.”
“Why wouldn’t he confess if he knew he could save you?”
“Because he doesn’t love me!”The words hung in the air, ripped out of her.Lucy put her free hand on the jamb, as though to steady herself.The hint of red in her cheeks deepened.And then she started to cry.
“Lucy—” Tean began again.
She shook her head, and he cut off.For a few seconds, she wiped her cheeks, shaking her head.And then she said, “Fine.Fine.”
And she stepped back into the house, the door hanging open behind her.
Inside, they had to pass through a cramped nook that served as a vestibule or foyer or whatever you wanted to call it, and then they stood in the living room.The old rambler had been updated at some point—to Jem’s eye, probably ten or fifteen years ago.Honey oak floors looked like original wood that had been sanded down and stained.The walls were that sandy-tan-beige-gray that had been so popular for a while.A massive, built-in entertainment center dominated the far end of the room, with an equally massive television.Facing this were a lumpy sectional sofa and a knock-off La-Z-Boy.Being a cop didn’t pay great, and it probably didn’t help that Lucy was a stay-at-home mom.The décor tended toward Mormon via Deseret Book: a scale replica of the Jesus statue from the Temple Square Visitors’ Center; a full set ofThe Work and the Glory—they’d been in some of the foster homes Jem had lived in, and he recognized them on sight, massive hardback books that told the story of a family of early Mormon converts; more books written by church leaders—one of them, with blue flowers on the cover, stood on a little display stand next to a framed art print of the same flower.On the wall behind the sectional hung an oversized photo of Ammon and Lucy standing outside the Salt Lake City Temple, fifteen years younger, him in a black suit, her in a white dress.
Lucy held up a hand behind her as she disappeared down the hall.Her murmured voice floated back to them, and then the sound came of a door shutting.A moment later came a knock and then words that sounded like a question.
When she returned, red still showed in her cheeks, and she sat stiffly at one end of the sectional.Jem sat at the other end, and after a moment, Tean sank down next to him.
“What do you want to ask?”
“I’m sorry we have to do this—” Tean began.
“Just ask your questions, please.”