The elevator chimed again.The doors opened.Jem stepped out into a small waiting area—a pair of upholstered chairs; a side table with little wooden trinkets that had probably cost a fortune; another mirror that, this time, Jem avoided.He stopped.Put his hands on his hips.He stared down at the carpet and took a breath.And then another.And then another.
Finally, he said, “Sorry.”
Didn’t say.Mumbled.
Tean rubbed his back.
The tears came so quickly, without any warning at all, that Jem wasn’t sure, at first, he’d be able to blink them away.But the rush faded again almost immediately.His nose felt stuffed.His face was hot.He was sweating again.
“So,” he said.He had to stop to wipe his nose.“This is all super fucked up.”
“It’s going to get better,” Tean said.“They’ll clear the roads.The sheriff will come.”
In spite of himself, Jem managed a wet laugh.“No, I mean me.I am super fucked up.”
Tean actually seemed to think about this for a moment.“No,” he finally said.“I don’t think so.”
“Thanks, but yeah, I kind of am.”Jem shook his head.“God, maybe shewassleeping with him.What do I care?I don’t even know her, Tean.I don’t know who she is or what she does.”
“I think it’s understandable that you’d have a lot of emotions about your mom,” Tean said.“And I think it makes sense that they might manifest under a variety of circumstances, in ways you might not be able to anticipate.”
“Great,” Jem said.
“Most people feel protective of their moms.I think that’s natural.”Tean’s voice turned wry.“Which does raise the question of why I’m currently engaged in the process of being the world’s worst son.”
“You’re a great son,” Jem said.He blinked a few times to make sure his eyes were clear, and then he looked up.Tean wore a familiar worried frown behind the glasses.“Complicated emotions.Fraught relationship.Totally understandable.Sound familiar?”
Tean tilted his head.And a small smile cracked his expression.“Seriously fucked up.”
Jem laughed, and this time, it felt more like a real one.“That makes two of us.”
For a moment, Tean’s smile brightened.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jem said.“I get it.Quinn and Beckett already told us that Stephen was spending a lot of time with Brigitte.We know somebody else was involved the night Tafton was killed.Now Sawyer says she and Stephen were sleeping together.”Absently, he checked his beard in the mirror, raked fingers through his hair, smoothed down his eyebrows.“That’s every murder ever, right?You start with the spouse.She’s cheating on him.She wants his money.Sometimes, it’s both.”
“Jem,” Tean said softly.
Jem went to work straightening Tean’s eyebrows next, which was more of a job.“It’s not even like she’s a good person.Maybe shedidkill him.I don’t know.”
“Jem,” Tean said again.“Right now, what do we know?Stephen handled the money.He was charging wildly different—and sometimes exorbitant—rates.And Stephen lied about who he was.All of that points toward Stephen right now.”Tean seemed to be searching Jem’s face for something.Finally, he said, “I need to know that you’re going to be okay when we find Stephen.”
“You mean, you want me to promise not to punch his teeth down his throat.”
“That would be a good start.”
“Fine.”
Tean raised his eyebrows.
“For real?”It came out as more of a whine than Jem intended.But he muttered, “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s your fault I’m such a mess,” Jem said.“Just so you know.”
“Please don’t explain why.”
“Number one, no McDonald’s in, like, a hundred hours.That’s got to be some kind of world record.”
