The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,48
Tean said, glancing at the array of animals featured in the photographs. “That’s really impressive.”
“I’ve got nothing better to do with my time. I was a fireman, hurt my back, and it was either a few years of daytime TV before I dragged myself out back and put a bullet in my brain, or find something important to do with my life.”
“What organizations do you work with?” Tean asked.
“You know what I think?” Leroy said, stabbing the spoon at Jem. “It might be trouble, sure. Joy loves trouble, and she loves the drama of it, the hiding, the running, as much as she loves actually doing something. But it might be that wife.”
“Zalie?”
“Lot of money. Lot of money. People kill for less than that.”
“Kill?” Jem said.
“You bet your butt. That pig farm’s got to be worth a few million. They’re already in that co-op, they’re fully organic, they own the land outright. Zalie built it up from just about nothing, but Joy’s going after it with both hands in the divorce. I know she is. She wasn’t ever one to let something she loved slip away from her.”
Leroy flushed, and with some difficulty, he got to his feet. “I don’t know where she is. I don’t know what she’s up to. If she’s in trouble, leave me out of it. But I’ll tell you one thing: if Zalie touched a hair on her head, I’ll put that woman in the ground myself. Now, you boys ought to leave. Tell Hannah hello for me.”
He ushered them out of the house, refusing to answer any more questions, and Tean and Jem made their way to the truck. Scipio went wild sniffing them. Jem seemed to have a similar idea: as they drove back to the highway, Jem pulled his shirt up to his nose and made a face.
“Thank God your apartment doesn’t smell like that.”
“Roger probably needs a bath.”
“Yeah: it’s fucking disgusting. I’m probably going to have to wash my jacket and shoes just so I don’t smell like dog.”
“I’m more worried about those rescue animals. A lot of them—maybe most of them—are prohibited. You can’t own them, rescue them, transport them. I wonder if he still has any of them.”
“Uh oh. The big bad DWR wolf just got your scent, Leroy. Watch out!”
Tean stretched, reaching across Jem for the handle on the passenger door.
“What are you doing?” Jem said, laughing as he wrestled Tean away from the door. “Will you pay attention to the road, please?”
“Sure. I just need to kick your butt to the curb first.”
Jem laughed some more, grappling with Tean until Tean had to merge onto the highway and really focus on driving. They drove north, the valley spread out ahead of them, a blaze of amber and blue-white lights, the dark bulk of the mountains like the end of the world.
“What about that shit about blowing up a delivery driver?” Jem asked, his hand resting on Tean’s shoulder again, his index finger playing with Tean’s collar, the flat of his nail pleasant against Tean’s nape. “Do you think that’s for real?”
“I don’t know,” Tean said, “but Hannah didn’t tell us everything. She’s got more of a history there, and I want to know what it is.”
16
They drove to Hannah’s house in Wasatch Hollow. It was almost nine, and the streetlights revealed a suburban landscape of abandoned toys and overturned bikes, minivans and crossover SUVs, neatly weeded flower beds, lawns that got aerated and seeded and fertilized like Jesus Christ himself might do a surprise inspection. In many of the Craftsman bungalows, dormer windows glowed.
Tean was already slowing the truck, looking for a place to park on the crowded street, and Jem had a better look at the houses they were passing. In one, through a large picture window on the main floor, he could see a family kneeling in a circle: mom in wrinkled cotton pajamas, dad in a BYU hoodie, Billy and Bobby and Susy and Sally in shorts and t-shirts that obviously served as sleepwear. They were praying, and when the prayer finished, Bobby said something to Billy, and they immediately started fighting, both boys going to the ground, rolling across the carpet as they struggled with each other. Sally and Susy skipped upstairs, completely unconcerned. Dad was yelling. Mom was tired. Was she thinking about Mother’s Day coming up, Jem wondered. Was she worried she wasn’t a good mom? Or was she thinking