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Tean had no idea what to say to that, so they walked in silence for another dozen yards.
“How long have you two been together?” John-Henry asked.
“We’ve known each other almost three years. We had…a rough start, I guess.”
“You’re married?”
Tean nodded.
“And let me guess,” John-Henry said, “he’s lied to you before.”
The sound of their steps on the concrete seemed very loud in the darkness.
“Sorry,” John-Henry said. “That’s none of my business. I asked because—well, if you want to talk about rocky starts and bad behaviors repeating themselves, I’m kind of an expert.” In the weak light, it was hard to tell for certain, but it looked like he blushed. “Ree and I went to high school together. I was not a good person. Actually, that’s letting myself off easy. I was horrible. I was scared of who I was, and Ree was…not. So, I had to punish him for that. I tortured him, literally.”
Tean turned, taking in John-Henry again. It was easy to see it: the remarkable good looks, the natural athleticism, the easygoing smile, the boy who would have been friends with everyone without even trying. Tean knew the type; Ammon was the type, or at least, shared some of those qualities.
“He forgave me,” John-Henry said with a tight smile, “in case you’re wondering. I’m still working on forgiving myself. Of course, then I turn around and do something downright shitty, so, like I said, bad behaviors repeating themselves. It doesn’t mean I don’t love him. And it doesn’t mean I don’t want to do better. I just screw up now and then.” His smile broadened. “It helps that Ree has his own share of screw-ups.”
The breeze picked up, dragging on Tean’s hair, carrying the fishiness of the lake and something else—a mixture of body odor and cannabis that, for a moment, Tean thought might be John-Henry. Then the breeze settled again, and the stink faded.
“This is…not what I expected,” Tean said.
Out across the water, the red aircraft warning light blinked on and off.
“Jem is such a good person,” Tean finally said. “If you think he killed Yesenia, you’re wrong. If you think he’s trying to hurt someone, you’re wrong.”
John-Henry said nothing, and the silence became an undertow, dragging more out of Tean.
“I lost my temper.” Tean rubbed one eye. “I hate losing my temper. He doesn’t understand why I get upset, even though we’ve talked about it dozens of times. For him, it’s all so…I don’t know if easy is the right word, but things aren’t so charged. For me, everything is charged. Fraught. I don’t know how to turn it off.”
“Maybe you could help me understand what exactly is going on.”
Tean laughed. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll have to talk to Jem. If you want my guess, Jem went to that place because he thought somebody was an easy mark. Like—” He stopped himself.
“Like Shaw,” John-Henry finished.
“It has nothing to do with intelligence. That’s not what I’m trying to say. I’m sure Shaw is very smart. For heaven’s sake, Jem can put one over on me as easily as he does anyone else. It has to do with knowing how people work, and it has to do with knowing how to make people want things, or be afraid of things, or…believe.”
John-Henry was silent for a long time. “What else has he done? What are we talking about? The animal psychic thing seems harmless, but if you say there’s more…”
When the wind picked up this time, the lake rolled against the shore, a sloshing sound like a kid shaking a mason jar.
“I’d like to go back now,” Tean said.
“I think we need to finish this conversation.”
“Jem didn’t hurt anyone. And right now, he’s terribly upset, and I need to make things right with him. That’s all you need to know.”
Frustration marred John-Henry’s features, and as he opened his mouth, Tean braced himself for the argument.
Then the darkness behind John-Henry gathered, took on shape, and a figure burst out from the underbrush. In the ambient light, the baseball bat was barely more than a silhouette, a gleam of starlight on polished wood. Their attacker rushed up behind John-Henry, and even as Tean opened his mouth in a warning, he knew it would be too late.
He grabbed John-Henry and dragged him to the ground. They hit the concrete walkway in an explosion of breath, and the bat whistled through the air overhead. A man shouted, rage and frustration, and the bat swung through the night again, coming down toward Tean’s head. Tean scrambled backward—a crabbing, scuttling motion on hands and feet. He had an impression of John-Henry rolling in the opposite direction. Then the attacker turned toward Tean again, and Tean forgot about everything else.
It was dark outside, but as Tean got to his feet, he could make out enough details to recognize Colin Rangel. Under a mask of shadows, he no longer looked young, and he’d lost his tired prettiness. He looked furious and petulant, with a bully’s sneering satisfaction as he came at Tean with the bat. Behind Colin, another man moved toward John-Henry, who was still picking himself up, reaching for a gun that, Tean saw, he’d lost in the fall. Tean guessed this second man would be Quinn. Something crackled in his hand, a nasty, electric spark and pop, and for a moment, a jagged, violet current arced on the stun gun.
“Said don’t kill you.” Colin grinned—a smear of white interrupting the darkness. “Bring you back, you and your butt-buddy. Didn’t say anything about hurting you, though.”
