Джон Гришэм - A Time for Mercy

Jake was quick to interrupt. “Don’t answer that. It could be hearsay and inadmissible in court. I’m sure we’ll fight over it later, but not now.”

Ozzie had heard enough, both from the witnesses and from the lawyer. He abruptly stood and said, “That’s all we need. Thank you for your time, ladies. Jake, we’ll be in touch. Or not. I’m sure you’ll hear from the district attorney in the near future.”

Jake stood as they left the room. He sat down when they were gone, and Portia closed the door.

Josie asked, “How’d we do?”

“You were great.”

16

The long day began at sunrise when Charles McGarry swept his headlights across the rear of his little country church. Lights were on in the kitchen and he knew that Josie and Kiera were wide awake and ready to go. He met them at the door, exchanged hurried greetings because they had hours to talk in the car, and locked the church behind them. Kiera folded her long legs into the rear of the small McGarry family car and Josie got herself situated in the front passenger seat. Charles pointed to the digital clock on the dash and said, “Six forty-six. Remember the time. It’s supposed to take three hours.”

His wife, Meg, had planned to join them, but, truthfully, the car was too small for four people sitting shoulder-to-shoulder for a long ride. And a grandmother who’d promised to babysit had fallen ill.

“Meg sent some sausage biscuits,” he said. “In that bag back there.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Kiera said.

“She’s not feelin’ well,” Josie said.

“I’m gonna be sick, Mom,” she said again.

“Serious?” he asked.

“Pull over. Quick.” They had gone less than half a mile; the church was almost visible behind them. Charles hit the brakes and stopped on the shoulder. Josie was already opening the door and pulling her daughter out. She vomited in a ditch and retched for a few minutes while Charles watched for headlights and tried not to listen. She cried and apologized to her mother and they discussed something. Both were crying when they got back in the car, and for a long time nothing was said.

Finally, Josie offered a fake laugh and said, “She’s always had a problem with car sickness. Never seen anything like it. Kid can chuck it before I start the engine.”

“You okay back there?” Charles asked over his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, head back, eyes closed, arms across her stomach.

“How about some music?” he asked.

“Sure,” Josie said.

“You like gospel?”

Not really, she thought. “How about it, Kiera, you want to listen to some gospel music?”

“No.”

Charles turned on the radio and tuned in to the country station out of Clanton. They skirted around the edge of town and found the main highway south. At seven the news came on, weather first, then a report that the district attorney, Lowell Dyer, had confirmed that the Ford County grand jury would meet later in the day to work on its docket. And, yes, the murder of Officer Stuart Kofer would be discussed. Charles reached over and turned off the radio.

The car sickness struck again a few miles south of Clanton, this time on a highway busy with early morning traffic. Charles turned the car into someone’s gravel drive and Kiera jumped out, barely averting a mess. Once she was back in the car, Josie said, “It might be the smell of those biscuits. Could we put them in the trunk?”

Charles really wanted one for breakfast, but he decided not to take chances. He unbuckled, grabbed the bag off the backseat, opened the trunk, and put away their breakfast. Meg had been up at five to fry the sausage and thaw the frozen biscuits.

On the road again, Charles glanced in his mirror every minute or so. Kiera was pale and her forehead was wet. Her eyes were closed and she was trying to nap.

Josie felt the uneasiness and knew that Charles was worrying about her daughter. To change the subject she said, “We talked to Drew last night. Thanks for allowin’ us to use the church phone.”

“No problem. How’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to say. He’s in a better place, a small room with a cellmate, a kid who’s seventeen but a good boy, so far. And Drew says the people, the doctors, are nice and seem really concerned about him. They’ve put him on a drug, an antidepressant, and he says he’s feelin’ better. He met with two different doctors yesterday and they just asked him a bunch of questions, in general.”

“Any idea how long they’ll keep him?”

“No. That has not been discussed so far. But he’d rather stay where he is than go back to the jail in Clanton. Jake says there’s no way to get him out. Says no judge in the state would set a bond in a case like this.”

“I’m sure Jake knows what he’s talking about.”

“We like Jake a lot. Do you know him well?”

“No. Remember, Josie, I’m new around here, just like you. I grew up over in Lee County.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Gotta tell you, it sure is a comfort havin’ a guy like Jake as our lawyer. Are we supposed to pay him?”

“I don’t think so. Isn’t he appointed by the court?”

She nodded and mumbled something, as if she suddenly remembered another story. Kiera managed to curl herself into a ball in the rear seat and take a nap. After a few miles, Josie turned to look at her and whispered, “Hey, baby, you okay?”

Kiera did not respond.

—

IT TOOK AN hour to get processed and directed to one building and then another, where they were herded into a waiting room where two guards wore guns on their hips. One of them with a clipboard emerged from the back and approached Charles. She managed a forced smile and asked, “Are you here to see Drew Gamble?”

Charles pointed to Josie and Kiera and said, “They are. They’re his family.”

“Please follow me.”

Every door had a buzzer that clicked, and as they moved deeper into the labyrinth the halls became wider and cleaner. They stopped at a metal door with no window and the guard said, “I’m sorry but it’s family only.”

“Fine with me,” Charles said. He hardly knew Drew and was not eager to spend the next hour with him. Josie and Kiera walked inside and found Drew seated in the small, windowless room. All three grabbed each other with fierce embraces and began crying. Charles watched from the open door and felt enormous pity for them. The guard backed out, closed the door, and said, “A counselor would like to speak to you.”

“Sure.” What else was he supposed to say?

The counselor was standing in the door of a small, cluttered office in yet another wing. She introduced herself as Dr. Sadie Weaver and said she was borrowing the office for the moment. They wedged themselves inside and she closed the door.

“And you’re their minister?” she began, with no thought of preliminary chatter. She gave every impression of being incredibly busy.

“Well, sort of, let’s say yes, okay? They’re not officially members of my church but we’ve sort of adopted them. They have no place else to go. No family in the area.”

“We spent a few hours with Drew yesterday. Sounds like the family has had a rough time of it. He’s never seen his father. I’ve spoken with their lawyer, Mr. Brigance, and with Dr. Christina Rooker in Tupelo. She saw Drew last Thursday and asked the court to commit him for evaluation. So I know some of the background. Where are they living?”

“In our church. They’re safe and well-fed.”

“Bless you. Sounds like the mother and sister are being cared for. I, of course, am more concerned with Drew. We’ll spend this afternoon and tomorrow with him and his mother and sister. I assume you’re their driver.”