The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,9

age, and his accent made Jem think he was from Pakistan or maybe India. He accepted the form when they completed it and asked for the credit check fee.

“The website didn’t say anything about a credit check,” Tean said.

“I’m sorry, but this is our policy.”

“When I called, I was told—”

“It’s fine,” Jem said, and he forked over thirty bucks.

Two minutes later, the manager shook his head. “I’m very sorry, sir, but we cannot offer you a contract today.”

“What do you mean?” Tean said. “Why not?”

“Unfortunately, the gentleman’s credit score falls outside a desirable range.”

“Let me see,” Tean said.

Nodding, the manager pushed his chair back and let Tean approach the monitor. Tean’s dark eyes roved over the screen and then he glanced up at Jem. “Did you default on a Wells Fargo credit card?”

Jem shook his head.

“What about a Chase Visa?”

Another shake of his head.

“What about—”

“I’ve never had a credit card,” Jem said. “I’ve never had any kind of loan, actually.”

“Crap,” Tean said. “This is a mistake. This isn’t—”

“I’m very sorry,” the manager said, “but this is his Social Security number, correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“And this is his name, correct?”

“Yes, but you don’t understand—”

“Then I’m very sorry. We cannot offer him a contract today.”

“I’ll co-sign,” Tean said.

Sighing, Jem stood and caught Tean’s arm. “Let’s go.”

“If I co-sign,” Tean said, “you can offer him a contract, right?”

“We will have to run a credit check,” the manager said.

“Ok. I’ll write down my—”

“No,” Jem said.

“It’ll just take a minute.”

“No,” Jem said. “I don’t want you to do that.”

He said it a little too loudly. Tean’s dark eyes were wide, and he pushed his mane of hair back with both hands.

“Let’s just go,” Jem said more quietly.

Back in the truck, they drove in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Jem said.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so pushy.”

The truck whumped over something—a foam cup, Jem saw in the side mirror. Sunset lit up the valley in shades of orange and gold. The mountains were a wall of fire.

“Did it have an address?” Jem asked. “For those credit cards.”

Tean hesitated. Then he said, “Tooele.”

“That’s what I thought. LouElla.” Jem’s last foster mother had expensive tastes and a habit of taking in extra kids just so she could get the state’s money. He hadn’t known, though, about the credit cards. He hadn’t known something like that was even possible.

“It’s identity theft,” Tean said, “and fraud. She could go to prison.”

“Ok.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Jem wanted to ask why they should even bother; he was suddenly tired of the whole thing. But all he said was, “Ok.”

With a suddenness that surprised Jem, Tean turned into an AutoZone lot and parked the truck. He took out his phone and placed a call, and then he said, “Hannah? Yes. I’ve got an idea. How would you feel about hiring someone to look into, you know, what’s going on? Just for the weekend. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.” He listened for a moment and said, “No, his rates are very reasonable. And he happens to have just finished a job, so he’s completely available. Ok. Ok. Perfect. Yes, I’ll tell him. We’ll be there tonight.”

When Tean put away the phone, he had a small smile. “I think I just got you your next job.”

Jem arched an eyebrow.

“What? Why not? You’re good at this kind of stuff—you proved it with everything that happened with Benny. And Hannah’s desperate for help. And it’ll be easy money. She’s probably imagining the whole thing, and by Monday, you’ll have some cash in your pocket, and she’ll feel better, and maybe my life at work will go back to normal.”

Jem smiled. “You don’t have to worry about me. I promise I can take care of myself.”

Tean studied his hands on the steering wheel, a shy smile playing across his mouth, and said, “Well, that’s what friends do, right?”

“Best friends.”

“Don’t push it.”

Laughing, Jem patted Tean’s leg. “Thank you. But why do I get this sick feeling in my stomach that you’re determined to make an upstanding citizen out of me?”

5

Hannah lived in a brick Craftsman bungalow on the east side of Salt Lake, in a neighborhood called Wasatch Hollow. Jem had been there once before, when Hannah had invited him and Tean over for dinner with her and her husband, Caleb. The house was on a street of similar Craftsman bungalows, all versions of the same design: dormer windows, exposed rafter tails, wide porches. Kids were playing a game of rollerblade hockey in the middle of