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Authors: John Grisham
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him?”
“Of course! Why didn’t you tell me he’s off his meds?” She was practically screaming.
“I didn’t know he was on meds, Brenda, until yesterday. He never told us. You didn’t either.”
“It’s not something we talked about. Please find him, Mark!”
“We’re trying.”
“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“No, not yet. Stay put and I’ll call you later.”
At the Waterfront, they parked at a curb and scrambled out of the car. As they sprinted toward the river a security guard stopped them. Mark said, “Sir, we’re looking for a friend. He drives a little blue Mazda and he needs our help. Have you seen him?”
“Ain’t nobody here this time of night,” the guard said.
“Okay. We’re just looking, that all right?”
“Sure.”
They walked along the promenade and stopped by the edge of the Potomac, in the same spot Gordy and Mark had been just hours earlier. To their right, a few cars crossed the Potomac on the Key Bridge. And to their left, beyond Roosevelt Island, there was an emergency on the Arlington Memorial Bridge. Red and blue lights were flashing.
7
B y the time they arrived, the three westbound lanes of the bridge were blocked and traffic was backing up. Todd parked on a grassy knoll near a ramp and they hurried to the scene. Half a dozen D.C. police cars were parked haphazardly on the bridge with their doors open and blue lights flashing. Radios squawked as cops milled about. Two of them were standing on the sidewalk at the railing, peering into the dark river below. An ambulance with its siren wailing was inching through the stalled traffic trying to reach the scene. A hundred feet onto the bridge, a cop stopped them.
“Get back!” he growled. “Where do you think you’re going?”
They stopped and absorbed the mayhem before them. Over his shoulder and beyond the police cars they saw Gordy’s blue Mazda, sitting dead still with its lights on in the center lane. Its driver’s door was open.
“What happened?” Mark asked the cop.
“None of your business. Now get away from here.”
Todd said, “Sir, we know him. He’s our friend. What’s happened to him?”
The cop took a deep breath and relaxed. He said, “He jumped, okay? He stopped his car and jumped.”
Zola screamed and buried her face in her hands. Todd grabbed her before she fell. Mark’s knees buckled and he almost vomited. He managed to say, “No, there’s no way.”
The cop took Mark by the shoulders and nodded to his left where two officers were consoling a middle-aged woman. He said, “That woman was driving behind him when he stopped. She saw him run to the edge and jump. I’m sorry.”
“There’s no way,” Mark said again, and Todd led Zola to the wide sidewalk a few feet away. She sat down hard with her back against the concrete railing of the bridge and wailed inconsolably.
“I’m sorry,” the officer said again. “We’re running his tags. He’s from West Virginia, right?”
“Right. His name is Gordon Tanner. We’re students.”
“Come with me.” Mark followed him past the police cars and the cops and they stopped behind Gordy’s car. Mark stared at it in horror and shook his head. “Over here,” the cop said, and he led Mark to the edge of the bridge. Two cops with handheld search beams were shining lights on the dark waters of the Potomac. A speedboat with more blue lights was racing toward them.
The cop said, “This is where he went over. There’s ice down there. No one could last more than two minutes.”
Mark stared at the water and watched the speedboat go under the bridge. He covered his eyes and began sobbing.
A detective in a trench coat walked over and asked, “Who’s this?”
The cop said, “He’s a friend, knows the guy.”
Mark looked at the detective and tried to compose himself. The detective said, “I’m sorry, son. What can you tell us?”
Mark wiped his eyes and gritted his teeth. In a shaky voice, he managed to say, “He’s
“Of course! Why didn’t you tell me he’s off his meds?” She was practically screaming.
“I didn’t know he was on meds, Brenda, until yesterday. He never told us. You didn’t either.”
“It’s not something we talked about. Please find him, Mark!”
“We’re trying.”
“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“No, not yet. Stay put and I’ll call you later.”
At the Waterfront, they parked at a curb and scrambled out of the car. As they sprinted toward the river a security guard stopped them. Mark said, “Sir, we’re looking for a friend. He drives a little blue Mazda and he needs our help. Have you seen him?”
“Ain’t nobody here this time of night,” the guard said.
“Okay. We’re just looking, that all right?”
“Sure.”
They walked along the promenade and stopped by the edge of the Potomac, in the same spot Gordy and Mark had been just hours earlier. To their right, a few cars crossed the Potomac on the Key Bridge. And to their left, beyond Roosevelt Island, there was an emergency on the Arlington Memorial Bridge. Red and blue lights were flashing.
7
B y the time they arrived, the three westbound lanes of the bridge were blocked and traffic was backing up. Todd parked on a grassy knoll near a ramp and they hurried to the scene. Half a dozen D.C. police cars were parked haphazardly on the bridge with their doors open and blue lights flashing. Radios squawked as cops milled about. Two of them were standing on the sidewalk at the railing, peering into the dark river below. An ambulance with its siren wailing was inching through the stalled traffic trying to reach the scene. A hundred feet onto the bridge, a cop stopped them.
“Get back!” he growled. “Where do you think you’re going?”
They stopped and absorbed the mayhem before them. Over his shoulder and beyond the police cars they saw Gordy’s blue Mazda, sitting dead still with its lights on in the center lane. Its driver’s door was open.
“What happened?” Mark asked the cop.
“None of your business. Now get away from here.”
Todd said, “Sir, we know him. He’s our friend. What’s happened to him?”
The cop took a deep breath and relaxed. He said, “He jumped, okay? He stopped his car and jumped.”
Zola screamed and buried her face in her hands. Todd grabbed her before she fell. Mark’s knees buckled and he almost vomited. He managed to say, “No, there’s no way.”
The cop took Mark by the shoulders and nodded to his left where two officers were consoling a middle-aged woman. He said, “That woman was driving behind him when he stopped. She saw him run to the edge and jump. I’m sorry.”
“There’s no way,” Mark said again, and Todd led Zola to the wide sidewalk a few feet away. She sat down hard with her back against the concrete railing of the bridge and wailed inconsolably.
“I’m sorry,” the officer said again. “We’re running his tags. He’s from West Virginia, right?”
“Right. His name is Gordon Tanner. We’re students.”
“Come with me.” Mark followed him past the police cars and the cops and they stopped behind Gordy’s car. Mark stared at it in horror and shook his head. “Over here,” the cop said, and he led Mark to the edge of the bridge. Two cops with handheld search beams were shining lights on the dark waters of the Potomac. A speedboat with more blue lights was racing toward them.
The cop said, “This is where he went over. There’s ice down there. No one could last more than two minutes.”
Mark stared at the water and watched the speedboat go under the bridge. He covered his eyes and began sobbing.
A detective in a trench coat walked over and asked, “Who’s this?”
The cop said, “He’s a friend, knows the guy.”
Mark looked at the detective and tried to compose himself. The detective said, “I’m sorry, son. What can you tell us?”
Mark wiped his eyes and gritted his teeth. In a shaky voice, he managed to say, “He’s
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