Mc-Thune, Lewis, and the gang waited nervously outside the door. Trumann, especially, was anxious. What if they changed their minds? What if Muldanno got the body? What if? He paced and fidgeted, glanced at the locked door, asked Lewis a hundred questions. Lewis sipped coffee and tried to remain calm. It was now twenty minutes before eight. The sun was bright, the air humid.
Mark sat in his mother’s lap, and Reggie, the lawyer, sat behind the desk. Glint stood by the door.
“I’m glad you came,” Reggie said to Dianne.
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“You do now. You can change your mind if you want. You can ask me anything.”
“Do you realize how fast all this is happening, Reggie? Six days ago, I came home and found Ricky curled in his bed sucking his thumb. Then Mark and the cop showed up. Now I’m being asked to become someone else and run away to another world. My God.”
“I understand,” Reggie said. “But we can’t stop things.”
“Are you mad at me, Mom?” he asked.
“Yeah. No cookies for a week.” She stroked his hair. There was a long pause.
“How’s Ricky?” Reggie asked.
“About the same. Dr. Greenway is trying to bring him around so he can enjoy the plane ride. But they had to drug him slightly when we left the hospital.”
“I’m not going back to Memphis, Mom,” Mark said.
“The FBI has contacted a children’s psychiatric hospital in Phoenix, and they’re waiting for you now,” Reggie explained., “It’s a good one. Glint checked it out Friday. It’s been highly recommended.”
“So we’re going to live in Phoenix?” Dianne asked.
“Only until Ricky is released. Then you go wherever you want. Canada. Australia. New Zealand. It’s up to you. Or you can stay in Phoenix.”
“Let’s go to Australia, Mom. They still have real cowboys down there. Saw it in a movie once.”
“No more movies for you, Mark,” Dianne said, still rubbing his head. “We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t watched so many movies.”
“What about TV?”
“No. From now on, you’ll do nothing but read books.”
The office was silent for a long time. Reggie had nothing else to say. Glint was dead tired and,about to fall asleep on his feet. Dianne’s mind was moving clearly now, for the first time in a week. Frightened as she was, she had escaped the dungeon at St. Peter’s. She had seen sunlight and smelled real air. She was holding her lost son, and the other one would improve. All these people were trying to help. The lamp factory was history. Employment was now a thing of the past. No
more cheap trailers. No more worries about past due child support and unpaid bills. She could watch the boys grow up. She could join the PTA. She could buy some clothes and do her nails. Good gosh, she was only thirty years old. With a little effort and a little money, she could be attractive again. There were men out there.
As dark and treacherous as the future seemed, it could not be as horrible as the past six days. Something had to give. She was due a break. Have a little faith, baby.
“I guess we’d better get to Phoenix,” she said.
Reggie grinned with relief. She pulled the agreement from a briefcase Glint brought with him. It had been signed by Harry and McThune. Reggie added her signature, and handed the pen to Dianne. Mark, now bored with hugs and tears, walked to the wall and admired a series of framed color photos of jets. “On second thought, I might be a pilot,” he said to Glint.
Reggie took the agreement. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, opening the door and closing it behind her.
Trumann jumped when it opened. Hot coffee splashed from his trembling cup and burned his right hand. He cursed, and slung at the floor, then wiped it on his pants.
“Relax, Larry,” Reggie said. “Everything’s fine. Sign here.” She stuck the agreement in his face, and Trumann scrawled his name. K.O. did the same.
“Get the plane ready,” Reggie said. “They’re going to Phoenix.”
K.O. turned and flashed a hand signal at the agents by the hangar entry. McThune jogged toward them
with more instructions. Reggie returned to the ottice and closed the door.
K.O. and Trumann shook hands and smiled goof-ily. They stared at the door to the office.
“What now?” Trumann mumbled.
“She’s a lawyer,” K.O. said. “Nothing’s ever easy with lawyers.”
McThune walked to Trumann and handed him an envelope. “It’s a subpoena for the Reverend Roy Fol-trigg,” he said with a smile.