A sad little tray of hospital food sat on the table, untouched by either Ricky or Dianne. Mark had not seen his mother eat three bites in two days. He felt sorry for her sitting there on the bed, staring at Ricky, worrying herself to death. The news from Reggie about the job and the raise had made her smile. Then it made her cry.
Mark was sick of the crying and the cold peas and the dark, cramped room, and he felt guilty for leaving but was delighted to be here in this sports car headed, he hoped, for a plate of hot, heavy food •with warm
bread. Clint had mentioned inside-out ravioli and spinach lasagna, and for some reason visions of these rich, meaty dishes had stuck in his mind. Maybe there would be a cake and some cookies. But if Momma Love served green Jell-O, he might throw it at her.
He thought of these things as Reggie thought of being tailed. Her eyes went from the traffic to the mirror, and back again. She drove much too fast, zipping between cars and changing lanes, which didn’t bother Mark one bit.
“You think Mom and Ricky are safe?” he asked, watching the cars in front.
“Yes. Don’t worry about them. The hospital promised to keep guards at the door.” She had talked to George Ord, her new pal, and explained her concern about the safety of the Sway family. She did not mention any specific threats, though Ord had asked. The family was getting unwanted attention, she had explained. Lots of rumors and gossip, most of it generated by a frustrated media. Ord had talked to McThune, then called her back and said the FBI would stay close to the room, but out of sight. She thanked him.
Ord and McThune were amused by it. The FBI already had people in the hospital. Now they had been invited.
She suddenly turned to the right at an intersection, and the tires squealed. Mark chuckled, and she laughed as though it was all fun but her stomach was flipping. They were on a smaller street with old homes and large oaks.
“This is my neighborhood,” she said. It was certainly nicer than his. They turned again, to another narrower street where the houses were smaller but still
two and three stories tall with deep lawns and manicured hedgerows.
“Why do you take your clients home?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Most of my clients are children who come from awful homes. I feel sorry for them, I guess. I get attached to them.”
“Do you feel sorry for me?”
“A litde. But you’re lucky, Mark, very lucky. You have a mother who’s a good woman and who loves you very much.”
“Yeah, I guess so. What time is it?”
“Almost six. Why?”
Mark thought a second and counted the hours. “Forty-nine hours ago Jerome Clifford shot himself. I wish we’d simply run away when we saw his car.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. It was like I just had to do something once I realized what was going on. I couldn’t run away. He was about to die, and I just couldn’t ignore it. Something kept pulling me to his car. Ricky was crying and begging me to stop, but I just couldn’t. This is all my fault.”
“Maybe, but you can’t change it, Mark. It’s done.” She glanced at her mirror and saw nothing.
“Do you think we’re gonna be okay? I mean, Ricky and me and Mom? When this is all over, will things be like they were?”
She slowed and turned into a narrow driveway lined with thick, untrimmed hedges. “Ricky will be fine. It might take time, but he’ll be all right. Kids are tough, Mark. I see it every day.”
“What about me?”
“Everything will work out, Mark. Just trust me.” The Mazda stopped beside a large two-story house
with a porch around the front ot it. snruos aim HUWCLS grew to the windows. Ivy covered one end of the porch.
“Is this your house?” he asked, almost in awe.
“My parents bought it fifty-three years ago, the year before I was born. This is where I grew up. My daddy died when I was fifteen, but Momma Love, bless her heart, is still here.”
“You call her Momma Love?”
“Everyone calls her Momma Love. She’s almost eighty, and in better shape than me.” She pointed to a garage straight ahead, behind the house. “You see those three windows above the garage? That’s where I live.”
Like the house, the garage needed a good coat of paint on the trim. Both were