The Client by John Grisham Read Free Book Online Page B

sucking his thumb. She heard a car door slam and went back to the living room.
    Mark burst through the door. “Hi, Mom.”
    “Where have you been?” she snapped. “What’s wrong with Ricky?”
    Sergeant Hardy appeared in the door, and she froze.
    “Good evening, ma’am,” he said.
    She glared at Mark. “What have you done?”
    “Nothing.”
    Hardy stepped inside. “Nothing serious, ma’am.”
    “Then why are you here?”
    “I can explain, Mom. It’s sort of a long story.”
    Hardy closed the door behind him, and they stood in the small room looking awkwardly at one another.
    “I’m listening.”
    “Well, me and Ricky were back in the woods playing this afternoon, and we saw this big black car parked in a clearing with the motor running, and when we got closer there was this man lying across the trunk with a gun in his mouth. He was dead.”
    “Dead!”
    “Suicide, ma’am,” Hardy offered.
    “And we ran home as fast as we could and I called 911.”
    Dianne covered her mouth with her fingers.
    “The man’s name is Jerome Clifford, male white,” Hardy reported officially. “He’s from New Orleans, and we have no idea why he came here. Been dead for about two hours now, we think, not very long. He left a suicide note.”
    “What did Ricky do?” Dianne asked.
    “Well, we ran home, and he fell on the couch and started sucking his thumb and wouldn’t talk. I took him to his bed and covered him.”
    “How old is he?” Hardy asked with a frown.
    “Eight.”
    “May I see him?”
    “Why?” Dianne asked.
    “I’m concerned. He witnessed something awful, and he might be in shock.”
    “Shock?”
    “Yes ma’am.”
    Dianne walked quickly through the kitchen and down the hall with Hardy behind her and Mark following, shaking his head and clenching his teeth.
    Hardy pulled the covers off Ricky’s shoulders and touched his arm. The thumb was in the mouth. He shook him, called his name, and the eyes opened for a second. Ricky mumbled something.
    “His skin is cold and damp. Has he been ill?” Hardy asked.
    “No.”
    The phone rang, and Dianne raced for it. From the bedroom, Hardy and Mark listened as she told the doctor about the symptoms and the dead body the boys had found.
    “Did he say anything when you guys saw the body?” Hardy asked quietly.
    “I don’t think so. It happened pretty fast. We, uh, we just took off running once we saw it. He just moaned and grunted all the way, ran sort of funny with his arms straight down. I never saw him run like that, and then as soon as we got home he curled up and hasn’t spoken since.”
    “We need to get him to a hospital,” Hardy said.
    Mark’s knees went weak and he leaned on the wall. Dianne hung up and Hardy met her in the kitchen. “The doctor wants him at the hospital,” she said in panic.
    “I’ll call an ambulance,” Hardy said, heading for his car. “Pack a few of his clothes.” He disappeared and left the door open.
    Dianne glared at Mark, who was weak and needed to sit. He fell into a chair at the kitchen table.
    “Are you telling the truth?” she asked.
    “Yes ma’am. We saw the dead body, and Ricky freaked out I guess, and we just ran home.” It would take hours to tell the truth at this point. Once they were alone, he might reconsider and tell the rest of thestory, but the cop was here now and it would get too complicated. He was not afraid of his mother, and generally came clean when she pressed. She was only thirty, younger than any of his friends’ moms, and they had been through a lot together. Their brutal ordeals fighting off his father had forged a bond much deeper than any ordinary mother-son relationship. It hurt to hide this from her. She was scared and desperate, but the things Romey told him had nothing to do with Ricky’s condition. A sharp pain hit him in the stomach and the room spun slowly.
    “What happened to your eye?”
    “I got in a fight in school. It wasn’t my fault.”
    “It never is. Are you