Pretty strange case. How’s he doing?”
Mark stood by the door, hoping she would just go away. “He’s probably gonna die,” he said sadly.
“No!”
“Yeah, it’s awful. He’s in a coma, you know, sucking his thumb, grunting and slobbering every now and then. His eyes have rolled back into his head. Won’t eat.”
“I’m sorry I asked.” Her heavily decorated eyes were wide open, and she had stopped touching everything.
Yeah, I’ll bet you’re sorry you asked, Mark thought. “I need to be there with him,” Mark said. “My mom’s there, but she’s all stressed out. Taking a lot of pills, you know.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s awful. I’ve been feeling dizzy myself. Who knows, I could end up like my brother.”
“Can I get you anything?” •
“No. I just need to lie down.” He walked to the bottom bunk and fell into it. Doreen knelt beside him, deeply troubled now.
“Anything you want, honey, you just let me know, okay?”
“Okay. Some pizza would be nice.”
She stood and thought about this for a second. He closed his eyes as if in deep pain.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I haven’t had lunch, you know.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and she left. The door clicked loudly behind her. Mark bolted to his feet and listened to it.
The Client
27
1 HE ROOM WAS DARK AS USUAL; THE LIGHTS OFF, THE
door shut, the blinds drawn, the only illumination the moving blue shadows of the muted television high on tb.6 wall. Dianne was mentally drained and physically beat from lying in bed with Ricky for eight hours, patting and hugging and cooing and trying to be strong in this damp, dark little cell.
Reggie had stopped by two hours earlier, and they’d sat on the edge of the foldaway bed and talked for thirty minutes. She explained the hearing, assured her Mark was being fed and in no physical danger, described his room at the detention center because she’d seen one before, told her he was safer there than here, and talked about Judge Roosevelt and the FBI and their witness protection program. At first, and under the circumstances, the idea was attractive—they would simply move to a new city with new names and a new job and a decent place to live. They could run from this mess and start over. They could pick a large city with big schools and the boys would get lost in the crowd. But the more she lay there curled on one side
and stared above Ricky’s little head at the wall, the less she liked the idea. In fact, it was a horrible idea—living on the run forever, always afraid of an unexpected knock on the door, always in a panic when one of the boys was late getting home, always lying about their past.
This little plan was forever. What if, she began asking herself, one day, say five or ten years from now, long after the trial in New Orleans, some person she’s never met lets something slip and it’s heard by the wrong ears, and their trails are quickly traced? And when Mark is, say, a senior in high school, somebody waits fbr him after a ballgame and sticks a gun to his head? His name wouldn’t be Mark, but he would be dead nonetheless.
She had almost decided to veto the idea of witness protection when Mark called her from the jail. He said he’d just finished a large pizza, was feeling great, nice place and all, was enjoying it more than the hospital, food was better, and he chatted so eagerly she knew he was lying. He said he was already plotting his escape, and would soon be out. They talked about Ricky, and the trailer, and the hearing today and the hearing tomorrow. He said he was trusting Reggie’s advice, and Dianne agreed this was best. He apologized for not being there to help with Ricky, and she fought tears when he tried to sound so mature. He apologized again for all this mess.
Their conversation had been brief. She found it difficult to talk to him. She had little motherly advice, and felt like a failure because her eleven-year-old son was in jail and she couldn’t get him out. She couldn’t go see him. She couldn’t go talk to the judge. She couldn’t tell him to talk or to remain quiet because she
was scared too. She couldn’t do a damned thing but stay here in this narrow bed and stare at the walls and pray that she would wake up and the nightmare