Satan's Pony Read Free

the drugs that did it. My son would never have acted like that if he was himself … .”
    The lawyer frowned.
    She pressed a hand against her mouth.
    Oh, Mag, you just blew the whole kidnapping theory! I groaned.
    â€œBut now he’s repented,” she said, trying to save the day. “He’s truly sorry for what he did and wants to make a fresh start.” She stared beseechingly at the jury.
    One by one, the twelve members looked away.
    â€œAny more questions, Mr. Maxwell?” the judge addressed the lawyer.
    â€œNo more questions, Your Honor.” The lawyer, deflated, turned away.
    â€œThank you, Mrs. Nelson,” the judge said in a gentler tone. “We’ll recess for lunch and reconvene at two o’clock.” He gathered his robes about him, preparing to leave.
    A woman officer in uniform came to help Maggie from the witness-box. She stumbled on the way out. As the guard led her to her seat, she seemed dazed. I raised my hand to wave but let it fall back in my lap. She wouldn’t have seen it anyway.

CHAPTER 3
    I had told Maggie I couldn’t stay for the afternoon session. I had office hours. I was sorry because I knew she would have to face the prosecutor and a grilling much worse than this morning’s. I got a lift back to the motel with one of the spectators who happened also to be one of my patients.
    The motel parking lot swarmed with half-naked tattooed bruisers with beer cans that seemed to be soldered to their hands. The way they joshed and roughhoused together reminded me of a bunch of junior high school kids, only bigger, as if they’d sampled some of that magic potion in Alice’s Wonderland.
    As I edged my way through the lobby, carefully dodging them, Paul Nelson called me over. “Hey, Jo!”
    He looked tired. Already worn out worrying about Maggie, he now had to deal with this hoard of noisy, brainless, unwashed bums that had descended on him.
    â€œCould you do me a favor?” he asked.
    â€œYou name it,” I said.
    â€œKeep an eye on Mag. I have to go up to the city for some supplies.” (“The city” always meant Philadelphia, not Bridgeton.) “I don’t like leaving her here with …” he said, and nodded at the crowd.
    â€œI’ll watch her like a hawk,” I assured him. He didn’t ask how
her testimony had gone, I noted. He had shut himself off from that aspect of her life, as if it didn’t exist. I wondered how Paul kept this up at home. Could he actually sit through a whole meal with Maggie without asking about her day—or his son? But my knowledge of married life was skimpy, as I’d been raised by a single parent—my father. My mother died when I was four. I was totally ignorant of the games, the little subterfuges, the lies, and the silences employed by husbands and wives.
    â€œThanks,” Paul said. “How do you like our new guests?” He winked.
    â€œNothing like a full house!” I gave him a thumbs-up.
    Ignoring the whistles and catcalls, I threaded my way through the throng. If I kept my gaze straight ahead and my mouth shut, maybe I could make it to the door without incident. There were only twelve of them, Jack had told me. But because of their size and the racket they made in the small lobby, it seemed more like twenty. It wasn’t until I reached the parking lot that I broke my vow. I was revving my bike when this bruiser on a gorgeous midnight blue Harley rolled up beside me. From under droopy lids he eyed my sad little secondhand Honda, grinning.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” I snapped.
    â€œNothin’.” He cast another pitying glance at my bike.
    â€œUp yours!” I took off in a spray of gravel, hoping some of it hit him in the eye.
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    I was headed for the Blue Arrow and a bite to eat before office hours. But when I arrived, there were three Harleys parked out front. I decided to skip lunch and turned my bike toward