The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,43

me how you feel right now. I really appreciate when you do that because it makes me feel like you value me enough to be honest.”

Tean squinted at the sea turtle, who was squinting back, and then Tean glanced around the room, looked at the phone, and tried, generally, to see the trap. He settled for saying, “What do you want?”

“I had a phone call last night—”

Tean groaned.

“And I’ve been thinking about something that I would like to talk to you about. I’d really like to hear your thoughts about it too.”

“Ok, just—can you talk normally to me, please? What’s going on with you?”

Silence on the other end of the call. Tean visualized Ammon reading off a page, which probably wasn’t too far off. “I understand that you went and saw Zalie Maynes last night. Is that right?”

“Yes. I mean, if you call being shot at and almost killed a visit.”

“I want to share with you that when you put yourself in danger like that, it makes me feel really, really vulnerable—not just because I can’t help you but also because I don’t know how I would keep going without you.”

“Ammon, enough already. I can’t stand this. Just yell at me or shout or slam the phone or swear or something.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded almost like the real Ammon, the one Tean had sat across the table from in the high school cafeteria. “It’s that bad?”

“Well, no. But I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I’m really trying, Tean. I’m really trying right now.”

“I know.” And, oddly enough, Tean did. “Ok, I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I honestly didn’t think I’d be in any danger. We were just poking around, and it seemed logical to check out the farm that Joy and Zalie own—”

“We?”

“Come on. We’ve been doing so good.”

“No, Tean. No, we haven’t been doing so good. You’ve been fucking around again, getting involved in a police investigation—”

“You asked me to!”

“I asked you to talk to Hannah! I didn’t ask you to . . . to snoop around with a criminal who you like to fuck just to make me angry. Jesus fucking Christ, I cannot believe you!”

“Ok,” Tean said, “this is the other shoe dropping. Goodbye.”

“Stay out of this case, God damn it. Do you hear me? This is not going to be a repeat of last year.”

Tean disconnected the call. The phone buzzed again almost immediately, Ammon’s name on the screen again, and Tean dismissed it. Then he turned his phone off. When his desk phone rang, he gathered up the maps and paperwork he needed for the canine distemper containment project, and he headed for his truck.

It was a long, frustrating day. He met up with Miguel, the conservation officer who worked the Heber Valley, and Miguel took him to several different spots in the valley where people had reported seeing feral dogs and coyotes that looked sick. Reports like that were hit or miss, though, and they only managed to collect a single coyote specimen. The coyote was thin, with crusty deposits around its eyes and nose—typical of the discharge produced by canine distemper, but not definitive. They had to gear up with disposable coveralls, disposable gloves, and rubber boots, and then they had to document the specimen in situ, transfer the specimen to a plastic bag, seal it, and haul it back to the truck.

“I think it’s time to start looking for a few to euthanize,” Tean said, “to supplement the diagnostic evaluation. We need to find a pack that’s infected.”

“That’s a pretty generous use of ‘we,’” Miguel said. His long hair came to the nape, glossy and smooth, and when Hannah was around, he’d take off his Jazz hat and shake out his hair like he was in a Head & Shoulders commercial.

“I’ll see if I can send Maddie or Jamal to help.”

“Are you signing overtime?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Ok, then send Maddie.”

“Why? Is there some kind of problem with Jamal?”

“Are you kidding? He’s great. But I kind of got a spark from Maddie, you know.”

Tean sighed. “I’m sending Jamal.”

Miguel expressed his disappointment while Tean double bagged his personal protective equipment and disinfected his boots. He was still expressing his disappointment when Tean drove away.

After delivering the coyote specimen to the DWR building and storing it in the refrigerator in the lab, Tean cleaned up in the locker room and headed home. Scipio bowled into him, desperately trying not to jump—they’d been