laughed. All four doors were open and the car was being carefully inspected. There was no effort to remove the body. The helicopter made a final pass, then flew away.
Mark was deep in the brush, maybe thirty feet from the tree and the log where they had lit the first smokes. He had a perfect view of the clearing, and of -the fat lawyer lying up there on the car like a dead cow in the middle of the road. Another cop car arrived, then another ambulance. People in uniform were bumping into each other. Small -white bags with unseen things in them were removed with great caution from the car. Two policemen with rubber gloves rolled up the hose. The photographer squatted in each door and flashed away. Occasionally, someone would stop
and stare at Romey, but most of them drank coffee from paper cups and chatted away. A cop laid Romey’s shoe on the trunk next to the body, then placed it in a white bag and wrote something on it. Another cop knelt by the license plates and waited with his radio for a report to come back.
Finally, a stretcher emerged from the first ambulance and was carried to the rear bumper and laid in the weeds. Two paramedics grabbed Romey’s feet and gently pulled him until two other paramedics could grab his arms. The cops watched and joked about how fat Mr. Clifford was, because they knew his name now. They asked if more paramedics were needed to carry his big ass, if the stretcher was reinforced or something, if he would fit in the ambulance. Lots of laughter as they strained to lower him.
A cop put the pistol in a bag. The stretcher was heaved into the ambulance, but the doors were not closed. A wrecker with yellow lights arrived and backed itself to the front bumper of the Lincoln.
Mark thought of Ricky and the thumb-sucking. What if he needed help? Mom would be home soon. What if she tried to wake him and got scared? He would leave in just a minute, and smoke the last cigarette on the way home.
He heard something behind him, but thought nothing of it. Just the snap of a twig, then, suddenly, a strong hand grabbed his neck and a voice said, “What’s up, kid?”
Mark jerked around and looked into the face of a cop. He froze and couldn’t breathe,
“What’re you doing, kid?” the cop asked as he lifted Mark up by the neck. The grip didn’t hurt, but
the cop meant to be obeyed. “Stand up, kid, okay. Don’t be afraid.”
Mark stood and the cop released him. The cops in the clearing had heard and were staring. ‘
“What’re you doing here?”
“Just watching,” Mark said.
The cop pointed with his flashlight to the clearing. The sun was down and it -would be dark in twenty minutes. “Let’s walk over there,” he said.
“I need to go home,” Mark said.
The cop placed his arm around Mark’s shoulders and led him through the weeds. “What’s your name?”
“Mark.”
“Last name?”
“Sway. What’s yours?”
“Hardy. Mark Sway, huh?” the cop repeated thoughtfully. “You live in Tucker Wheel Estates, don’t you?”
He couldn’t deny this, but he hesitated for some reason. “Yes sir.”
They joined the circle of policemen, who were • now quiet and waiting to see the kid.
“Hey, fellas, this is Mark Sway, the kid who made the call,” Hardy announced. “You did make the call, didn’t you, Mark?”
He wanted to lie, but at the moment he doubted a lie would work. “Uh, yes sir.”
“How’d you find the body?”
“My brother and I were playing.”
“Playing where?”
“Around here. We live over there,” he said, pointing beyond the trees.
“Were you guys smoking dope?”
“No sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes sir.”
“Stay away from drugs, kid.” There were at least six policemen in the circle, and the questions were coming from all directions.
“How’d you find the car?”
“Well, we just sort of walked up on it.”
“What time was it?”
“I don’t remember, really. We were just walking through the woods. We do it all the time.”
“What’s your brother’s name?”
“Ricky.”
“Same last name?”
“Yes sir.”
“Where were you and Ricky when you first saw the car?”
Mark pointed to the tree behind him. “Under that tree.”
A paramedic approached the group and announced they were leaving and taking the body to the morgue. The wrecker was tugging at the Lincoln.
“Where is Ricky now?”
“At home.”
“What happened to your face?” Hardy asked.
Mark instinctively reached for his eye. “Oh, nothing. Just got in a fight at school.”
“Why were you hiding in the bushes over there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Mark,