A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,136

then a rehab specialist.”

“I’m more concerned about my testicles.”

“So am I, but there’s little to do but ride it out. I took a peek last night when you were snoring and they’re quite impressive. Dr. McKee says there’s nothing to do down there but take pain pills and pray that you’ll one day walk like a man again.”

“Which specialist works on testicles?”

“That would be the urologist. He stopped by when you were out of it and took some pictures.”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not. I held the sheet up and he clicked away.”

“Why does he need photos?”

“Said he likes to enlarge them and hang ’em on the wall of his reception room.”

Jake managed a laugh, one that was cut short when a surge like a hot knife ripped through his ribs and he grimaced. The pain would be a way of life for days and he was determined not to show it, at least not in front of his wife. “How’s Hanna?”

“She’s fine. She’s with your parents and they’re having a big time.”

“That’s nice. What have you told her?”

“Well, not the whole truth. I told her you were involved in an accident, didn’t say what type, and that you were injured and need to spend a few days in the hospital. She’s very upset and wants to see you.”

“Not in here. I want to see her too but I don’t want to scare her to death. I’ll be home tomorrow and we’ll have a little family meeting.”

“Who said you’re going home tomorrow?”

“I did. I’ve had enough of this place. The bones are set and cuts are closed. I can convalesce at home with you as my full-time nurse.”

“Can’t wait. Look, Jake, there are a lot of people who are worried about you. Lucien wants to come by but I told him to wait. Harry Rex calls all the time.”

“I’ve seen Harry Rex and all he did was laugh at me for getting my ass kicked. Lucien can wait. I’ve talked to Portia and she’s stalling our clients. I think we have maybe three left.”

“Judge Noose has called.”

“He should. He got me into this mess.”

“He’s very concerned. Dell called. Judge Atlee. Dr. Proctor. Pastor McGarry. A lot of folks.”

“They can wait. I’m in no mood to see anyone if I can avoid them. Let’s get home and lock the doors and let me get on my feet. Some folks are just nosy, you know?”

“And some are very concerned.”

“I’m alive, Carla. I’ll mend quickly enough. I don’t need anyone stopping by to hold my hand.”

* * *

—

CECIL KOFER WAS the foreman of a dirt crew working on a channel near the lake. Late in the morning, Moss Junior and Mick Swayze parked next to his truck and walked into the construction trailer. Cecil was standing and talking on the phone, his hard hat on his desk. Nearby a secretary looked up said, “Good mornin’.”

Moss Junior glared at her and said, “Beat it.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I said, ‘Beat it.’ We need to chat with your boss.”

“You don’t have to be so rude.”

“You got about five seconds to step outside.”

She stood and huffed out of the trailer. Cecil hung up the phone as the deputies confronted him. Moss Junior said, “Hello, Cecil. This is Mick Swayze. Ozzie sent us.”

“A real pleasure, gentlemen.”

Cecil was thirty-one, stocky, with at least fifty pounds he didn’t need. For some reason he’d stopped shaving and wore a scruffy red beard that did nothing to improve his looks.

Moss Junior stepped to within striking distance and asked, “You go to town Monday night?”

“I don’t remember.”

“It was a long time ago. That green GMC out there is yours, right?”

“Probably.”

“Tag number 442ECS. Someone saw it speed away from the Kroger at about nine Monday night. Someone else was probably drivin’ it, right?”

“Maybe I loaned it to a friend.”

“What’s his name?”

“Can’t remember.”

“That’s a nasty knot on your forehead. What’s under the band-aid? Some stitches?”

“That’s right.”

“How’d it happen?”

“I walked into a shelf in my garage.”

“Damned shelves, always in the way. Mick, that look like another shelf injury?”

Swayze took a step closer and stared at Cecil’s forehead. “No, I’d say that looks like one of those knots from a fourteen-ounce can of tomato sauce. We see it all the time.”

Moss Junior said, “No doubt about it.” Slowly, he unsnapped a pair of handcuffs from his belt and rattled them, making as much noise as possible. Cecil took a deep breath and stared at the cuffs.

Moss Junior said, “There’s a fine line between simple assault and aggravated.