John Grisham: The Client

Dianne gave a sweet smile and shook his hand. Mark offered his, and said, “Thanks, K.O. You’ve been a real pain in the ass.” But he was smiling, and it struck everyone as being funny.

K.O. laughed. “Good luck to you, Mark, and I assure you, son, you’ve been a bigger pain.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry about all this.” He shook hands with Trumann, and walked away with his mother and McThune. Reggie and Clint remained by the hangar door.

At some point, about halfway to the jet, Mark stopped. As if suddenly scared, he froze in place and watched as Dianne climbed the steps to the plane. At no time during the past twenty-four hours had it occurred to him that Reggie would be left behind. He had simply assumed, for whatever reason, that she would stay with them until this ordeal was over. She would fly off with them, and hang around the new hospital until they were safe. And as he stood there, a tiny figure on the vast tarmac, motionless and stunned, he realized she was not beside him. She was back there with Clint and the FBI.

He turned slowly, and stared at her in terror as this reality sunk in. He took two steps toward her, then stopped. Reggie left her small group and walked to him. She knelt on the tarmac, and looked into his panicked eyes.

He bit his lip. “You can’t come with us, can you?” he asked slowly in a frightened voice. Though they had talked for hours, this subject was never touched.

She shook her head as her eyes watered.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. The FBI agents were close by, but not watching. For once in his life, he was not ashamed to cry in public. “But I want you to go,” he said.

“I can’t, Mark.” She leaned forward, took both of his shoulders, and hugged him gently. “I can’t go.”

Tears flooded his cheeks. “I’m sorry about all this. You didn’t deserve it.”

“But if it hadn’t happened, Mark, I never would’ve met you.” She kissed him on the cheek, and held his shoulders tight. “I love you, Mark. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll never see you again, will I?” His lip quivered and tears dripped off his chin. His voice was frail.

She gritted her teeth and shook her head. “No, Mark.”

Reggie took a deep breath, and stood. She wanted to grab him, and take him home to Momma Love. He could have the bedroom upstairs, and all the spaghetti and ice cream he could eat.

Instead, she nodded at the plane where Dianne was standing in the door, waiting patiently. He wiped his cheeks again. “I’ll never see you again,” he said, almost to himself. He turned, and made a feeble attempt to straighten his shoulders, but he couldn’t. He walked slowly to the steps, and glanced back for one last look.

Minutes later, as the plane taxied to the end of the runway, Clint eased to her side and took her hand. They watched silently as it took off and finally disappeared in the clouds.

She wiped tears from both cheeks. “I think I’ll become a real estate lawyer,” she said. “I can’t take any more of this.”

“He’s quite a kid,” Clint said.

“It hurts, Clint.”

He squeezed her hand harder. “I know.”

Trumann appeared quietly beside her, and the three of them looked at the sky. She noticed him, and pulled the micro-cassette tape from her pocket. “It’s yours,” she said. He took it.

“The body is in the garage behind Jerome Clifford’s house,” she said, still wiping tears, “886 East Brookline.”

Trumann turned to his left and stuck a radio to his mouth. The agents bolted for their cars. Reggie and Clint did not move.

“Thanks, Reggie,” Trumann said, now suddenly eager to leave.

She nodded at the distant clouds. “Don’t thank me,” she said. “Thank Mark.”