for him and one for Mark. He arranged the food neatly and returned the tray.
Mark nibbled on a french fry. Hardy launched into a burger.
“So what happened to your face?” Hardy asked, chomping away.
Mark rubbed the knot and remembered he had
been wounded in the fray. “Oh nothing. Just got in a fight in school.”
“Who’s the other kid?”
Dammit! Cops are relentless. Tell one lie to cover another. He was sick of lying. “You don’t know him,” he answered, then bit into his cheeseburger.
“I might want to talk to him.”
“Why?”
“Did you get in trouble for this fight? I mean, did your teacher take you to the principal’s office, or anything like that?”
“No. It happened when school was out.”
“I thought you said you got in a fight at school.”
“Well, it sort of started at school, okay. Me and this guy got into it at lunch, and agreed to meet when school was out.”
Hardy drew mightily on the tiny straw in his milk shake. He swallowed hard, cleared his mouth, and said, “What’s the other kid’s name?”
“Why do you want to know?”
This angered Hardy and he stopped chewing. Mark refused to look into his eyes, and he bent low over his food and stared at the ketchup.
“I’m a cop, kid. It’s my job to ask questions.”
“Do I have to answer them?”
“Of course you do. Unless, of course, you’re hiding something and afraid to answer. At that point, I’ll have to get with your mother and perhaps take the both of you down to the station for more questioning.”
“Questioning about what? What exactly do you want to know?”
“Who is the kid you had a fight with today?”
Mark nibbled forever on the end of a long fry.
Hardy picked up the second cheeseburger. A spot ot mayonnaise hung from the corner of his mouth.
“I don’t want to get him in trouble,” Mark said.
“He won’t get in trouble.”
“Then why do you want to know his name?”
“I just want to know. It’s my job, okay?”
“You think I’m lying, don’t you?” Mark asked, looking pitifully into the bulging face.
The chomping stopped. “I don’t know, kid. Your story is full of holes.”
Mark looked even more pitiful. “I can’t remember everything. It happened so fast. You expect me to give every little detail, and I can’t remember it that way.”
Hardy stuck a wad of fries in his mouth. “Eat your food. We’d better get back.”
“Thanks for the dinner.”
KICKY WAS IN A PRIVATE ROOM ON THE NINTH FLOOR. A
large sign by the elevator labeled it as the PSYCHIATRIC WING, and it was much quieter. The lights were dimmer, the voices softer, the traffic much slower. The nurses’ station was near the elevator, and those stepping off were scrutinized. A security guard whispered with the nurses and watched the hallways. Down from the elevators, away from the rooms, was a small, dark sitting area with a television, soft drink machines, magazines, and Gideon Bibles.
Mark and Hardy were alone in the waiting area. Mark sipped a Sprite, his third, and watched a rerun of “Hill Street Blues” on cable while Hardy dozed fitfully on the terribly undersized couch. It was almost nine, and half an hour had passed since Dianne had walked him down the hall to Ricky’s room for^a quick peek.
He looked small under the sheets. The IV, Dianne had explained, was to feed him because he wouldn’t eat. She assured him Ricky would be all right, but Mark studied her eyes and knew she was worried. Dr. Green-way would return in a bit, and wanted to talk to Mark.
“Has he said anything?” Mark had asked as he studied the IV.
“No. Not a word.”
She took his hand and they walked through the dim hallway to the sitting area. At least five times, Mark had almost blurted something out. They had passed an empty room not far from Ricky’s and he thought of dragging her inside for a confession. But he didn’t. Later, he kept telling himself, I’ll tell her later.
Hardy had stopped asking questions. His shift ended at ten, and it was obvious he was tired of Mark and Ricky and the hospital. He wanted to return to the streets.
A pretty nurse in a short skirt walked past the elevators and motioned for Mark to follow her. He eased from his chair, holding his Sprite. She took his hand, and there was something exciting about this. Her fingernails were long and red. Her skin was smooth and tanned. She had blond hair and a perfect smile, and she was young. Her name was Karen,