JК
Bag of Bones :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 208 из 425Is yours based on anything concrete?”
“No,” Mattie answered, and her quick glance in my direction asked me to keep my mouth shut. “Not really.” She opened the Scout’s door and tossed in the little brown bag with the Twinkies in it—she had decided to keep them after all. Then she turned to John and me with an expression that was close to anger. “I’m not sure how to follow that advice, anyway. I work five days a week, and in August, when we do the microfiche update, it’ll be six. Right now Ki gets her lunch at Vacation Bible School and her dinner from Arlene Cullum. I see her in the mornings. The rest of the time…” I knew what she was going to say before she said it; the expression was an old one.
”… she’s on the TR.”
“I could help you find an all pair,” I said, thinking it would be a hell of a lot cheaper than John Storrow. “No,” they said in such perfect unison that they glanced at each other and laughed. But even while she was laughing, Mattie looked tense and unhappy. “We’re not going to leave a paper trail for Durgin or Devore’s custody team to exploit,” John said. “Who pays me is one thing. Who pays Mattie’s child-care help is another.”
“Besides, I’ve taken enough from you,” Mattie said. “More than I can sleep easy on. I’m not going to get in any deeper just because I’ve been having megrims.” She climbed into the Scout and closed the door. I rested my hands on her open window. Now we were on the same level, and the eye-contact was so strong it was disconcerting. “Mattie, I don’t have anything else to spend it on. Really.”
“When it comes to John’s fee, I accept that. Because John’s fee is about Ki.” She put her hand over mine and squeezed briefly. “This other is about me. All right?”
“Yeah. But you need to tell your babysitter and the people who run this Bible thing that you’ve got a custody case on your hands, a potentially bitter one, and Kyra’s not to go anywhere with anyone, even someone they know, without your say-so.” She smiled. “It’s already been done. On John’s advice. Stay in touch, Mike.” She lifted my hand, gave it a hearty smack, and drove away. “What do you think?” I asked John as we watched the Scout blow oil on its way to the new Prouty Bridge, which spans Castle Street and spills outbound traffic onto Highway 68. “I think it’s grand she has a well-heeled benefactor and a smart lawyer,” John said. He paused, then added: “But I’ll tell you some-thing—she somehow doesn’t feel lucky to me at all. There’s a feeling I get… I don’t know…”
“That there’s a cloud around her you can’t quite see.”
“Maybe. Maybe that’s it.
“No,” Mattie answered, and her quick glance in my direction asked me to keep my mouth shut. “Not really.” She opened the Scout’s door and tossed in the little brown bag with the Twinkies in it—she had decided to keep them after all. Then she turned to John and me with an expression that was close to anger. “I’m not sure how to follow that advice, anyway. I work five days a week, and in August, when we do the microfiche update, it’ll be six. Right now Ki gets her lunch at Vacation Bible School and her dinner from Arlene Cullum. I see her in the mornings. The rest of the time…” I knew what she was going to say before she said it; the expression was an old one.
”… she’s on the TR.”
“I could help you find an all pair,” I said, thinking it would be a hell of a lot cheaper than John Storrow. “No,” they said in such perfect unison that they glanced at each other and laughed. But even while she was laughing, Mattie looked tense and unhappy. “We’re not going to leave a paper trail for Durgin or Devore’s custody team to exploit,” John said. “Who pays me is one thing. Who pays Mattie’s child-care help is another.”
“Besides, I’ve taken enough from you,” Mattie said. “More than I can sleep easy on. I’m not going to get in any deeper just because I’ve been having megrims.” She climbed into the Scout and closed the door. I rested my hands on her open window. Now we were on the same level, and the eye-contact was so strong it was disconcerting. “Mattie, I don’t have anything else to spend it on. Really.”
“When it comes to John’s fee, I accept that. Because John’s fee is about Ki.” She put her hand over mine and squeezed briefly. “This other is about me. All right?”
“Yeah. But you need to tell your babysitter and the people who run this Bible thing that you’ve got a custody case on your hands, a potentially bitter one, and Kyra’s not to go anywhere with anyone, even someone they know, without your say-so.” She smiled. “It’s already been done. On John’s advice. Stay in touch, Mike.” She lifted my hand, gave it a hearty smack, and drove away. “What do you think?” I asked John as we watched the Scout blow oil on its way to the new Prouty Bridge, which spans Castle Street and spills outbound traffic onto Highway 68. “I think it’s grand she has a well-heeled benefactor and a smart lawyer,” John said. He paused, then added: “But I’ll tell you some-thing—she somehow doesn’t feel lucky to me at all. There’s a feeling I get… I don’t know…”
“That there’s a cloud around her you can’t quite see.”
“Maybe. Maybe that’s it.