great drama, the martyr willing to face death. Grinder took a deep breath. Such sweet words.
Harry immediately motioned for the two deputies. “I find you in contempt, Mr. Moeller, and order you to jail.” The deputies stood beside Slick, who looked around wildly for help.
“Your Honor,” Alliphant said, standing without thinking. “We object to this! You cannot—“
Harry ignored Alliphant. He spoke to the deputies. “Take him to the city jail. No special treatment. No favors. I’ll bring him back Monday for another try.”
They yanked Slick up and handcuffed him. “Do something!” he yelled at Alliphant, who was saying, “This is protected speech, Your Honor. You can’t do this.”
“I’m doing it, Mr. Alliphant,” Harry yelled. “And if you don’t sit down, you’ll be in the same cell with your client.”
Alliphant dropped into his chair.
They dragged Slick to the door, and as they opened it, Harry had one final thing to say. “Mr.
Moeller, if I read one word in your paper written by you while in jail, I’ll let you sit there for a month before I bring you back. You understand.”
Slick couldn’t speak. “We’ll appeal, Slick,” Alli-phant promised as they shoved him through and closed the door. “We’ll appeal.”
DIANNE SWAY SAT IN A HEAVY WOOD CHAIR, HOLDING HER
oldest son and watching the sunlight filter through the dusty, broken blinds of Witness Room B. The tears were gone and words had failed them.
After five days and four nights of involuntary confinement in the psychiatric ward, she at first had been happy to leave it. But happiness these days came in tiny spurts, and she now longed to return to Ricky’s bed. Now that she’d seen Mark, and held him and cried with him, she knew he was safe. Under the circumstances, that was all a mother could ask.
She didn’t trust her instincts or judgment. Five days in a cave takes away any sense of reality. The endless series of shocks had left her drained and stunned. The drugs—pills to sleep and pills to wake up and pills to get through it—deadened the mind so that her life was a series of snapshots thrown on the table one at a time. The brain worked, but in slow motion.
“They want us to go to Portland,” she said, rubbing his arm.
“Reggie talked to you about it.”
“Yes, we had a long talk yesterday. There’s a good place for Ricky out there, and we can start over.”
“Sounds good, but it scares me.”
“Scares me too, Mark. I don’t want to live the next forty years looking over my shoulder. I read a
story one time in some magazine about a Mafia informant who helped the FBI and they agreed to hide him. Just like they want us to do. I think it took two years before the Mafia found him and blew him up in his car.”
“I think I saw the movie.”
“I can’t live like that, Mark.”
“Can we get another trailer?”
“I think so. I talked to Mr. Tucker this morning, and he says he had the trailer covered with plenty of insurance. He said he had another one for us. And I still have my job. In fact, they delivered my paycheck to the hospital this morning.”
Mark smiled at the thought of returning to the trailer park and hanging out with the kids. He even missed school.
“These people are deadly, Mark.”
“I know. I’ve met them.”
She thought for a second, then asked, “You what?”
“I guess it’s something else I forgot to tell you.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“It happened a couple of days ago at the hospital. I don’t know which day. They’re all running together.” He took a deep breath. He told her about his encounter with the man and the switchblade and their family portrait. Normally, she, or any mother, would have been shocked. But for Dianne, it was just another event in this horrible week.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“Because I didn’t want to worry you.”
“You know, we might not be in this trouble if you’d told me everything up front.”
“Don’t fuss at me, Mom. I can’t take it.”
She couldn’t say it either, so she stopped it. Reggie knocked on the door and it opened. “We need to go,” she said. “The judge is waiting.”
They followed her through the hall and around a corner. Two deputies trailed behind. “Are you nervous?” Dianne whispered.
“No. It’s no big deal, Mom.”
Harry was munching on the sandwich and flipping through the file when they entered the courtroom. Fink, Ord, and Baxter McLemore, the Juvenile Court prosecutor-of-the-day, were all seated together at