The Client by John Grisham Page B

makeup and her face was different.
    Greenway stood straight. “A most severe case,” he said almost to himself while staring at the closed eyes.
    “What’s next?” she asked.
    “We wait. His vital signs are stable, so there’s no physical danger. He’ll come around, and when he does, it’s imperative that you be in this room.” Greenway was looking at them now, rubbing his beard, deep in thought. “He must see his mother when he opens his eyes, do you understand this?”
    “I’m not leaving.”
    “You, Mark, can come and go a bit, but it’s best if you stay here as much as possible too.”
    Mark nodded his head. The thought of spending another minute in the room was painful.
    “The first moments can be crucial. He’ll be frightened when he looks around. He needs to see and feel his mother. Hold him and reassure him. Call the nurse immediately. I’ll leave instructions. He’ll be very hungry, so we’ll try and get some food in him. Thenurse’ll remove the IV, so he can walk around the room. But the important thing is to hold him.”
    “When do you—”
    “I don’t know. Probably today or tomorrow. There’s no way to predict.”
    “Have you seen cases like this before?”
    Greenway looked at Ricky, and decided to go for the truth. He shook his head. “Not quite this bad. He’s almost comatose, which is a bit unusual. Normally, after a period of good rest, they’ll be awake and eating.” He almost managed a smile. “But, I’m not concerned. Ricky will be all right. It’ll just take some time.”
    Ricky seemed to hear this. He grunted and stretched, but did not open his eyes. They watched intently, hoping for a mumble or word. Though Mark preferred that he remain silent about the shooting until they discussed it alone, he desperately wanted his little brother to wake up and start talking about other matters. He was tired of looking at him curled up on the pillow, sucking that damned thumb.
    Greenway reached into his bag and produced a newspaper. It was the Memphis Press, the morning paper. He laid it on the bed, and handed Dianne a card. “My office is in the building next door. Here’s the phone number, just in case. Remember, the moment he wakes up, call the nurses’ station, and they’ll call me immediately. Okay?”
    Dianne took the card and nodded. Greenway unfolded the newspaper on Ricky’s bed in front of them. “Have you seen this?”
    “No,” she answered.
    At the bottom of the front page was a headline about Romey. NEW ORLEANS LAWYER COMMITS SUICIDE IN NORTH MEMPHIS. Under the headline to the right was abig photo of W. Jerome Clifford, and to the left was the smaller headline—FLAMBOYANT CRIMINAL LAWYER WITH SUSPECTED MOB TIES. The word “mob” jumped at Mark. He stared at Romey’s face, and suddenly needed to vomit.
    Greenway leaned forward and lowered his voice. “It seems as though Mr. Clifford was a rather well-known lawyer in New Orleans. He was involved in the Senator Boyette case. Apparently, he was the attorney for the man charged with the murder. Have you kept up with it?”
    Dianne actually put the unlit cigarette in her mouth. She shook her head no.
    “Well, it’s a big case. The first U.S. senator to be murdered in office. You can read this after I leave. There are police and FBI downstairs. They were waiting when I arrived an hour ago.” Mark grabbed the railing on the foot of the bed. “They want to talk to Mark, and of course they want you present.”
    “Why?” she asked.
    Greenway looked at his watch. “The Boyette case is complicated. I think you’ll understand more after you read the story here. I told them you and Mark could not speak with them until I say so. Is this all right?”
    “Yes,” Mark blurted out. “I don’t want to talk to them.” Dianne and Greenway looked at him. “I may end up like Ricky if these cops keep bugging me.” For some reason, Mark knew the police would return with a lot of questions. They were not finished with