Page 22 of Animal Tamer
“Done,” Elias says.
“And I want—” I have to clear my throat. “I want him to know it's me. Not just that we're the boys from the Sanctum. Me. I want him to look at me and see what I look like now and know I'm the one who’s bringing justice.”
“Done.”
“And then Logan.”
“Then Logan,” Elias agrees, like we're going over a menu.
My twin reaches across the table and grips my wrist. Right over the scar I made myself. He's the only one who can do that. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.
“Standard execution and disposal,” Silas says, picking up the thread. “Twelve days from now. The trailer's ready by day eight. We pick him up on day ten, late, after he closes the shop and gets home. Cole on the locks, Jonah on the lift. We work him from day ten into day eleven. He'sgone by sunrise on day twelve. We're packed and rolling by noon.”
“What about the daughter?” Jules asks. “The one in Phoenix.”
“She doesn't call. We checked the phone records. He calls her on her birthday in November and on Mother's Day. By the time he’s a missing person, we're three states away.”
“And the church?” Teddy asks.
Elias steeples his fingers. “What about it?”
“Won't they notice when he doesn't show on Sunday?”
“They will. Eventually. By then, the porch is tagged, the photos are out, the rumor is moving. The story will be that the upstanding Mr. Harlan finally couldn't live with what people were starting to whisper. Skipped town. Took his own life somewhere in the woods. Or got picked up by a younger man at a truck stop. Pick one. The town will pick its favorite. Either way, the memorial service won't be well attended.”
“Christ,” Teddy mutters.
“You can leave this meeting whenever you'd like, Agent Coleman,” Silas says calmly.
Teddy doesn't move. Silas, Nova, the baby that’s coming—I know it all means too much to him. It means everything.
Elias raps the cane again.
“We move tonight after the show. Rowe, Cole, Logan, you take the porch. Silas, the hardware store. Jonah, you're with me on the trailer build through day eight. Marek—” he turns his head slightly toward the corner.
Marek hasn't looked up from his cards. He hasn't touched them either. He just sits with one fingertip resting on the back of the top one.
“Marek.”
“He has a dog,” Marek says quietly.
We all turn his way.
“In the photo.” He doesn't lift his eyes. “The Labrador.”
“What about it?” Logan asks.
“Don't kill the dog.”
“I wasn't going to kill the fucking dog,” my twin hisses.
Marek's fingertip moves a fraction. “We take the dog when we go.”
The trailer is silent.
“Marek will take the dog,” Elias says.
“Marek will take the dog,” Silas agrees.
