rate. Because of that, Lois had felt too guilty about changing her name, even when using aliases. “You want my height and weight too?”
“You were reported missing seven years ago by your mother. She said you ran away from home. Is that true?”
“Yeah, it’s true.” Lois stared up at the ceiling, trying to count the holes in the ceiling tiles. “I’m not a minor anymore, so you can’t charge me with anything on that.”
“I’m not charging you with anything. I just want to establish the facts.”
“Just the facts, ma’am, right?”
“It’s good to know you still have a sense of humor.” The detective had the same condescending, even tone of a shrink. Lois had always hated going to shrinks; they’d always given her the same crap about repressed anger because she didn’t know her father and an unhealthy need to compete with her mother. She would go to the sessions mandated by the school or the court and then go on her way without anything ever changing. The shrinks couldn’t tell her who her father was and they couldn’t change who her mother was either.
The detective cleared his throat. “We’ve contacted your mother. She’s on her way here. Are there any messages you want to send to her?”
“Tell her not to bother. I can take care of myself.”
The detective slid his chair forward a few inches. “You don’t seem to realize you’re in pretty big trouble here, Lois. Fleeing from a police officer is a serious offense. Not to mention you could have hurt someone.”
“Isn’t it about time you bring in the bad cop?”
“This isn’t a television show, young lady—”
She glared at him. “I’m not a young lady. You can call me Ms. Locke.”
“Ms. Locke, things will go better if you cooperate. It’s understandable that after those boys harassed you that you were scared—”
“I wasn’t scared of them.”
“Then why did you run?”
She motioned to the manila folder with her head. “So you wouldn’t find all that.”
The detective slid his chair even closer. “Why did you run away from home? Did your mother do something to you? Did she hurt you?”
“Of course not. She never laid a hand on me or said a bad word.” That was the problem. Mom had never lost her temper or done anything to hurt Lois. She had been perfect . Too perfect. “I’m not going to say anything else without a lawyer.”
“That’s fine, Ms. Locke. Do you have someone you want us to call? We could arrange a public defender—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Lois turned back to stare at the ceiling, waiting until the detective stood up and left. Then she closed her eyes and decided to take a nap while she waited.
* * *
There wasn’t a clock to tell her how long she’d waited. From Ren City to Lubbock was about a three-hour flight. With time for security, deplaning, and so forth it would take probably seven hours for Mom to get to the hospital. Less if Dr. Johnson let her borrow the 707 he kept at the airport, which he probably would. He might even come along for the ride.
She smiled at that thought. She hadn’t seen Dr. Johnson in ten years. Back then she had just about fainted every time she saw him. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, tall, and had a great smile; he was also the smartest person other than Mom at the museum. He could recite every Egyptian ruler chronologically or in reverse order. He was as fluid in hieroglyphics as in English and Arabic.
She felt her face turning warm as she thought of him. By now Dr. Johnson would be about sixty, an old man more than twice her age. Even if she were older, he probably still thought of her as the precocious toddler in pigtails asking about mummies.
When the door opened, she thought it was either a nurse checking on her or the detective coming back to pester her with more questions she wouldn’t answer. That was until she heard Mom’s voice cry