Jem felt like he was moving through water—slow, weightless, one hand coming out to grab Van Cleave’s windbreaker, stance shifting to hook the big man’s ankle.
But Trevino was there first, shoving her way between them.One hand forced Van Cleave back.The other, upraised, warded off Jem as she shouldered Tean to one side.
“Agent Van Cleave,” she said, “take a walk.”
“This little fuck—”
“Take a walk.”
“He’s calling a fucking reporter!”
Trevino, probably half a foot shorter than the other agent, met his gaze without answering.Van Cleave muttered something, turned, and stalked toward an unmarked car.
To Tean, Trevino said, “Dr.Leon, talking to a reporter is a bad idea right now.For a lot of reasons.”
With a slightly embarrassed shrug, Tean lowered his phone.Now that it wasn’t pressed against his ear, the sound of a soft voice filled the air: “—call will be answered in the order in which it was received.Thank you for holding.”Music followed—Jem thought might have been “The Entertainers.”
Trevino looked like she wanted to close her eyes.Instead, though, she said, “Where were you tonight, Dr.Leon?”
“After you held me for over an hour at the police station and interrogated me?”Trevino didn’t rise to the bait, so Tean continued, “At home.In bed.”He cut his eyes toward Jem and added, “Until Jem called me.”
“I see.Is there anyone who can confirm that?”
“Why would I need someone to confirm that?”
Trevino’s response was a flat-eyed gaze.She waited long enough to make her point, and then she said, “Mr.Berger, do you have anything you want to add to your statement?”
Jem shook his head.
“All right.We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.”
Without waiting for a response, she headed for Van Cleave, who was pacing next to the unmarked car.When she reached him, he said something low but forceful enough for the tone to carry on the air, and Trevino sliced a hand through the air.
Tean was watching them, so Jem touched his arm and said, “Let’s go.”
They walked together to Jem’s motorcycle.
“What’s going on?”Tean asked.
“She thinks we’re involved in this.”
“Weareinvolved in this.”
“No, she thinks we did it.Or we set it up.They both do; Trevino’s just smarter about it.”
Tean twisted to get a look at the cops.“But that doesn’t make any sense.Why would we want to hurt Daniel?Why call them and report an attack?”
“Because they think you’re trying to get Ammon off the hook.”Jem couldn’t help adding, “Which, you know, you are.”
“But I’m not—” Tean stopped.
They walked the last stretch in silence.When they reached the motorcycle, Jem grabbed his helmet.A fresh scratch showed where the knife had scored the plastic.
“So, according to them, we set this whole thing up,” Tean said.“And then tomorrow, I call Ammon’s lawyer, and I tell him that we found Brennon’s wallet at Kazen’s house and Daniel was attacked.And now there’s enough reasonable doubt that the defense lawyer demands Ammon be released.He says the confession was stress or confusion or that the police coerced him.”
“Pretty much,” Jem said.
“But it’s all the truth,” Tean said, voice tangled with frustration.He pushed both hands through his hair, which was wilder than usual from the doc’s restless sleep and what must have been a frantic drive down here.He shook his head.“Iamgoing to call the lawyer tomorrow.Of course I’m going to tell him what’s happened.”