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“Fuck off, man. I didn’t know her name.” DeVoy squinted—both eyes were definitely looking puffy now—and shrugged. “A friend put her in touch. Said she was looking to buy. She wanted something. A pet. I think that’s what she said. It’s been a while, you know?”
“Who’s your friend?”
DeVoy shook his head and looked away.
“Let’s try that again,” Jem said.
But John-Henry held up a hand, like a warning, and Jem took a deep breath.
“Did she say anything about using those animals for a park?” John-Henry asked.
“I told you: she wanted a pet.” DeVoy gave a tentative dab with the toilet paper again. “She didn’t know what she wanted. She said a pet. So, I asked what kind, like a bird. She said maybe, but maybe something else. Could she get a tiger? Could she get a chimp? I mean, that kind of thing. That’s what I remember. I left her some pics while I went to get a drink. When I came back, she was gone. Took the pictures. I remember—I mean, I freaked. I thought she was a cop or a Fed or something, like it was a sting. But nobody came. Nothing happened.”
“When was that?” Emery asked.
“A couple of months ago. Spring. It wasn’t hot as balls like this, that’s what I remember.”
Jem tried to make that line up with the rest of the puzzle. What had Yesenia been doing in this part of the state a couple of months ago? Until now, he’d assumed that her connection to the animal trafficking had happened within the last few days, during her time at the conference. Now, though, DeVoy was telling him that she’d driven across half the state months ago, with the sole purpose of…what? Stealing some photos?
“She never contacted you again?” John-Henry asked.
DeVoy shook his head.
“She didn’t come back and buy an animal?”
Another negative.
“Your friend,” Emery said.
“Unh-uh,” DeVoy said. “I’m not bringing him into this.”
“That seems like a poor choice. Do you think he’d do the same thing for you? You’re in trouble. The best way to get out of trouble is to help the shit roll downhill.”
“He wouldn’t roll, man. He’d shoot me in the back of the fucking head. Unh-uh. No way. You can take me to jail. Go on and take me. But if you do, I’m not telling you about the other lady. The one who got in a fight with that one.”
John-Henry and Emery shared a look.
“I thought you didn’t see her again,” Jem said. “I thought Yesenia never came back.”
“He asked me if she contacted me again. She didn’t. He asked me if she came back and bought an animal. She didn’t. But she was in here. I saw her, man. And she was mean.”
“Go on,” John-Henry said.
“That woman.” He nodded at John-Henry’s phone. “That one. She was in here a few nights ago.”
“How many nights ago?” Emery asked.
“I don’t know, man. Wednesday? Thursday?”
“She came to the Cottonmouth Club,” Jem said.
DeVoy nodded.
“Why?”
“It’s not like we had a conversation. She was in there, that’s all. I was thinking maybe I should try to get the photos back. I mean, she wasn’t a cop; when I saw her again, I could tell that wasn’t her thing. She was sitting there, looking around. Then she smiled. Got out of her chair and walked right over to this white lady, this other lady just trying to buy something, you know what I mean?”
“Let me guess,” Jem said. “You don’t know what she was trying to buy.”
