A year ago, Tean had sat in a little room like this.The paint on the cinderblock walls had been the color of egg yolk instead of white.There’d only been a single door, and the window had been a thin, wavy, one-way mirror.But the smell had been the same.He’d been there for hours.Talking.Then alone.Then talking again, the same questions, the same answers.And worse than the sour, meaty stink of the room had been the faint whiff of gunpowder.He couldn’t even tell if it was real.It was there at the edge of his awareness, registering when he took a breath without thinking about it.But when he focused, when he tried to find the source of the smell, it was like trying to catch a ghost.Once, when the detective interviewing him returned unexpectedly, he’d walked in on Tean with his hands pressed to his nose.
Now, in the white box, Tean had the wild thought that he could smell it again.
So, he took deep breaths—calm, even breaths.He couldn’t smell gunpowder because there was no gunpowder to smell.Because he hadn’t touched a gun in over a year.
He closed his eyes, but the light pressed against his eyelids, trying to get in.
The sound of the door opening made him snap upright, blinking to adjust to the brightness again.
Trevino was the Latina officer he’d seen at Ammon’s house the day before—or had it been two days?They were all starting to run together.She couldn’t have been taller than five-five, five-six, but built strong.She was dressed again in khakis and polo and tactical boots, but this time no windbreaker.Her hair was up in a bun.She was carrying a folder in one hand; Tean had spent enough time with Jem to wonder if this was a prop or something genuinely relevant to the conversation they were about to have, but he couldn’t tell—her broad face was fixed in an expressionless mask.
“Dr.Leon,” Trevino said as she pulled out the remaining chair.“Sorry to wake you.”
Tean said, “Am I under arrest?”
“That’s an interesting question.Why should I arrest you?”
“We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Would you like to tell me what you were doing tonight?”
“I already told you.Twice.We were having a conversation with Kazen Shumway.When Jem found Brennon’s wallet, Kazen ran, and Jem tried to follow him.”
“Jem.That would be Jeremiah Berger.”
“You know who he is.”
Trevino didn’t do anything dramatic like slide the folder across the desk.But she rested her hand on it.“Do you know what’s interesting about your friend?”
“He’s my boyfriend, not my friend.”
“No driver’s license.That’s one.”
Which Tean hadn’t known, not exactly.But it didn’t surprise him either.
“No vehicle registration.”Trevino paused, as though for commentary.When Tean said nothing, she continued, “No voter registration.”She waited again.“The last address I can find for him is a group home, but that was over ten years ago.It’s the kind of place they put kids after they age out of juvie.”
“Jem didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It’s like he doesn’t exist.That’s the kind of thing that makes me start to wonder what’s going on.Is this a stolen ID?That happens.Is it something else?Is he a prepper living off the grid?How does somebody live in this state without a driver’s license?”
Tean set his jaw.
“So, I asked around.And damn it if there aren’t plenty of people who know exactly who your friend is.A con man.A scam artist.Taking money from old ladies.Turning tricks.”
It was like someone flipped a magnifying glass inside Tean’s head, and all the light coming inside was now focused on a single, incandescent point.For the first time since they’d put him in this room, his head cleared.“Am I under arrest?”
“You, on the other hand—well, you, Dr.Leon, are an upright citizen.You’ve been with the Division of Wildlife Resources for years.Your colleagues think highly of you.You’re respected in your field.I bet everyone thinks you’re just a normal guy.”
What came out of Tean’s mouth didn’t really sound like a laugh.
“What are the two of you doing together?”
“This is what you dragged me in here for?”
Trevino narrowed her eyes.“You travel a lot for work, don’t you?”
“Am I under arrest?”