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“The snout, definitely. And—”
“The snout?” North asked with a note of horror.
Jem elbowed Tean, and because Jem was an inveterate bad influence, Tean said, “Stockily built. Small, rounded ears.”
“The chest hair,” John-Henry put in.
Theo rocked slightly, as though Auggie had bumped him under the table, and he grumbled, “You mean the underfur.”
John-Henry flashed a smile. “Check: the underfur.”
North’s stare panned across the group. “Fuck all y’all squishy-dicked motherfuckers.”
“Oh, oh, there’s a pill for squishy dicks—” Shaw began, but North spun and clapped a hand over his mouth, and Shaw dissolved into laughter. The two of them began their own private wrestling match. Tean was surprised to find a smile on his own face.
“If we can continue our conversation,” Emery said.
“You can,” Jem said.
“Permission granted,” Auggie said.
Emery made a strangled noise, John-Henry rubbed that spot on his forehead, and Auggie and Jem not-so-discreetly bumped fists behind Theo.
“Typically,” Tean said, “we’d analyze the victim, look for the physical characteristics of wounds, gather evidence, etcetera. The problem, of course, is that Yesenia’s body still hasn’t been recovered.”
“And probably won’t be,” Emery said.
“No, probably not. Rod wasn’t a vet, but he’d been around animals his whole life, and he knew how to stall an investigation. I imagine he, uh, disposed of the body using the cats. The chance of collecting DNA evidence from Sita’s claws, fur, and teeth is more complicated because she attacked Dusty and Rod. I told Chief Cassidy there’s a possibility something identifying—hair, a scrap of fabric—might remain undigested inside Sita. They’ve asked me to stick around and do the necropsy, mostly because they don’t have anyone else to do it.”
“But there won’t be a trial,” John-Henry said. “Rod’s dead. This is where it’ll end.”
“What about the Rangel brothers?” Jem asked. “Or the guy with the bad knee?”
John-Henry shrugged. “It’s going to be hard to prove anything about the murder. Cassidy will probably go for assault charges, maybe false imprisonment. He might even go for attempted murder. I understand he’s going to talk to your friend Kristin, but all she had were suspicions—I’m not sure she’ll be able to prove anything, one way or another, about the wildlife trafficking. It depends on a lot of factors, but mostly what the county attorney thinks they can make stick. I don’t think you have anything to worry about from them, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What about the people they work for?” Jem asked.
It took a moment before John-Henry answered, and the chatter of daytime television filtered into the chinks in the conversation. “I don’t know. It might be better—safer—if you went home as soon as you finish whatever work the county has contracted you to do.”
“They know you’re not easy meat,” Emery said, “but if Rod was telling the truth and they’re looking for you, the best thing you can do is clear out of here.”
“We can protect you,” Shaw said from inside a headlock. His butt stuck up in the air as he tried to wiggle free. North scowled and squeezed him more tightly. “We’re so good at protecting people!”
“Hello? Tean?” Missy stood in the opening to the bar. She was wearing the same clothes Tean had seen her in when she’d been arrested, but they seemed to hang on her now. She was thinner, although he tried to convince himself it was his imagination, and her hair was flat and lusterless in its low fade, her eyes ringed by shadows. She was the same Missy—the earbuds around her neck, the tattoos, the smile that was, today, understandably worn out. But she wasn’t the same, Tean understood. Wouldn’t be the same for a long time. Maybe not ever.
“Oh my gosh,” Tean said and scrambled out of his seat. He made it over to her, and before he could second guess himself, pulled her into a hug. “You’re ok. You’re out.”
He released her almost as quickly, and Missy stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. Her smile trembled. “I’m out. I understand—I mean, the police weren’t exactly thrilled, but I guess I’m here because of you.”
“Not really,” Tean said.
“Yes,” Jem said loudly from the table. He’d even cupped his hands around his mouth. “He’s amazing. My husband, everybody. Line starts here for autographs.”
“North,” Shaw said, “we have to get his autograph.”
North doubled down on the headlock.
“Everybody helped,” Tean said. “It was—I mean, I’m so glad you’re ok.”
