Satan’s Lambs by Lynn Hightower Page B

six years ago. How long did you say you’ve had these moths?”
    â€œI don’t know, Mendez, it’s not the kind of thing you mark on your calendar.”
    â€œWhere’s your trash can?”
    â€œUnder the sink. You aren’t going to throw them away?”
    He stopped and looked at her. “Were you planning to keep them?”
    â€œMendez, I didn’t invite you here to clean out my pantry.”
    He nodded and continued unloading boxes, stopping to look in a package of rice. “They’re in here, too.”
    â€œYou going to go through everything in there?” Lena took a corkscrew and eased the bottle of wine open.
    â€œI want you to talk to me about Hayes.”
    Lena felt her stomach muscles tense. Images rose in her mind—bloody footprints, her sister—nothing she wanted to think about, not now, not tonight.
    â€œYou know everything I know,” Lena said.
    â€œYour sister told me Hayes was an abused child.”
    â€œBullshit. That was all stuff he made up.” Lena glanced at Mendez. He was scrutinizing a box of crackers.
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œIf you knew the kind of nasty stuff he told her, you’d know too.”
    â€œWhy would he make things like that up?”
    â€œAs a turn-on. He has a disgusting and perverted libido.” Lena handed Mendez a glass of wine, then reached over and loosened his tie. He smiled at her.
    Lena stepped back and blinked. God, she thought. Must be feeling the beer. She tried to remember how many Coronas she’d had. What the hell. For one night, she could relax.
    â€œLet’s curl up on the couch and talk about something else.” She frowned. “We’ve known each other a long time. Haven’t we, Joel?”
    Mendez smiled at her, the sweet smile she didn’t see very often. He pressed a hand against the small of her back, then his smile faded. He turned back to the pantry.
    â€œPotato chips,” he said. “I have never seen so many half-eaten packages of …”
    Lena drained her glass of wine. Mendez carried an armful of potato chip bags to the trash can. He picked the wine up and refilled Lena’s glass.
    â€œWhat’s Jeff after now?” he said. “Why is he focusing on you?”
    â€œWho knows?”
    â€œJeff gets out of prison, and comes straight after you. Valetta’s on his way out, and you think he’ll go after your client. This interests me.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You think it’s revenge?”
    Lena shifted sideways in her chair. Valetta, at least, was after money. And Mendez was too damn smart.
    â€œI don’t know what’s in Jeff’s head. He’s a nut case, Joel. I don’t even try.”
    â€œI do.” Mendez stacked canned goods on the table next to the wine. “So anything you can tell me about him helps me.”
    Lena put her chin in her hands. She felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and thought about Jeff Hayes. She didn’t want to think about Jeff Hayes.
    She was aware, suddenly, that Mendez was leaning over her, his face so close she could feel his breath.
    â€œTalk to me, Lena.” His eyes were very brown, very steady. She couldn’t seem to look away.
    â€œOkay.” She swallowed. “Okay, one thing is.” She took a breath. “Like Whitney always kept saying how he was two people. I mean that he felt like two people, like he had two sides. The good boy, and the bad boy. And that no matter how much he wanted to be the good boy, he couldn’t. Because of what he’d already seen and done. He was marked by Satan, one of Satan’s lambs. That’s how he put it.” Lena put her chin in one hand and blinked at Mendez. She was starting to feel a little sick.
    Mendez patted her shoulder, then turned back to the pantry. “Go on, I’m listening.”
    â€œShe said he wouldn’t go into a church because he’d been told,