Holly drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry. This day hasn't begun well for me. Not your fault." She got out of the chair. "There's a patients' lounge at the end of the hall with a coffee machine. I'll buy."
They walked to the lounge, which was brightly furnished with comfortable chairs, checkerboards, card tables, and a pinball machine. An old man in a wheelchair stared at the television set, where a game show was silently in progress. The old man did not seem to miss the sound.
Holly dropped coins into the machine. It spilled a stream of brackish-looking coffee into two plastic cups. They carried the cups over to a table and sat down.
"Any word yet on who he is?" Holly asked.
"Nope. As far as I know, he might have stepped off a flying saucer."
"That's not very funny."
"You're right, it isn't."
They sat for a minute sipping at the hot brew, not saying anything. Holly watched him over the rim of her plastic cup. Finally she said, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Ask," he said.
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Waiting for your kid to snap out of his trauma so I can ask him what he was doing out in the woods."
"No, I mean what are you doing here in Pinyon?"
"Everybody's got to be somewhere."
"Are you happy being sheriff of a county with a population that could fit into a high school gym?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"There was talk a while back about you running for governor."
"Any such talk was strictly the fantasy of my ex-wife and my ex-father-in-law."
"Forrest Ingraham."
Ramsay gave her a long look. "That's the man. What else do you know about me?"
"Oh, a little. You went to Willamette University, enlisted, of all things, in the army, fought in Viet Nam, won some medals, came home, went to law school, married Forrest Ingraham's daughter, were elected sheriff, got a divorce."
"That sure covers the high spots. Don't I have any secrets?"
"Lots, I'll bet. They're none of my business. I just wonder why you stay here."
"I like it. Oh, I've had other offers. From the police departments in Cleveland, Buffalo, and Jersey City. Would you leave La Reina County for any of those?"
"I suppose not," she said, laughing softly.
"Well, then."
"Why do you have to be a policeman? Do you get some kind of kick out of it?"
His expression hardened. "Sure. I get off on clubbing down peace-marching college kids and locking up widows who can't pay their rent."
"Oh-oh, did I touch a nerve?"
"You're damn right. You ACLU types who spit out policeman like something that tastes bad give me a pain in the ass." He paused for a deep breath. "Sorry. We'd better get off this before I go into one of Jack Webb's old Dragnet speeches."
"I guess we aren't ready for a personal conversation."
"I guess not," he said.
They got up and dropped their cups into a trash container near the door.
"Just one thing," she said. "I don't belong to the ACLU."
"Nobody's perfect," he said.
Holly's breakthrough with the boy came that night while she sat in the chair next to his bed. She snapped off the television set after The Love Boat.
"I don't know about you," she said, "but I'm tired." She tucked the sheets in around the boy and smiled down at him. "See you in the morning." She paused in the doorway and looked back. In a talking-to-herself voice she said, "Damn, I wish I knew what to call you."
"I'm Malcolm." It was a dry croak, barely more than a whisper, but to Holly it was like a shout.
"Malcolm?" she repeated, trying not to sound too excited.
He nodded.
"That's a good name. Do you remember mine?"
The green eyes watched her.
"It's Holly," she said. "Holly Lang."
"Holly," the boy said in the same dry whisper.
"That's right. Do you have a last name, Malcolm?"
The boy looked confused.
"Well, that doesn't matter now. We have one name. That's enough to start with. Do you want to talk some more?"
The boy's eyes drifted off to a corner of the ceiling.
"That's all right," she said. "You get some sleep, and tomorrow we'll start fresh."
Malcolm looked back at her and nodded again. Holly left the room, elated.
She was in early the next day, eager to begin with Malcolm, but as she passed the reception desk the young woman there called her over.
"Dr. Qualen said for you to come to his office as soon as you got in."
Holly frowned. "Did he say what for?"
"Not to me."
Dr. Qualen stood up behind his rich mahogany desk and greeted Holly formally. "Ah, Dr. Lang. Good of you to stop by. I won't take much of your time."
She hid her impatience, waiting for him to get to the point.
"How are things going with the boy?"
"I've learned that his name is Malcolm."
"I see. Not what we'd call a significant breakthrough."
"That depends. I still have today."
"I wonder if perhaps another approach might speed things up."
"Apparently Dr. Pastory has talked to you."
"As a matter of fact, he has. He tells me you were rather abrupt with him yesterday."
"I was ticked off. He was upsetting my patient."
"The very point I wanted to make. The boy is not officially anyone's patient. As I told you, I am not convinced that the case falls under our jurisdiction."
"I remember. You mentioned the Youth Authority."
"That remains an option; however, Dr. Pastory has some thoughts of his own on the boy."
"What does he want to do, dissect him?"
"That's not very professional, Doctor."
"No, I suppose it isn't. I'm sorry. Is the case still mine, at least through today?"
"Yes, of course. I hope there won't be any more friction between you and Dr. Pastory."
"I'll do my best."
"Fine, fine. I'm glad we had this little talk." Holly swallowed her opinion of their little talk and left the office.
The boy was waiting for her.
"Good morning, Malcolm."
The boy turned away from Aquaman on television and looked at her. "Good morning, Holly."
"You remembered my name."
"I always knew it."
"Well, good." She came over and sat down. "Today let's see what else you can remember."
A tiny frown line creased the boy's brow.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to hook you up to a machine or give you shots or anything like that. We're just going to relax and talk."
Gavin Ramsay stuck his head in the door. "Is it safe to say good morning?"
"Hi, Gavin," Holly said. "Come on in and meet Malcolm."
Ramsay gave her a brief questioning look, then came into the room and walked to the foot of the bed.
"Hi," he said to the boy.
Holly said, "Malcolm, this is Sheriff Ramsay."
The boy looked to Holly for reassurance, then back at Gavin. "Hello, Sheriff."
Ramsay stuck out a hand. The boy took it and they shook hands gravely.
"Glad to see you're talking again, son."
"We were just about to find out what else Malcolm can remember."
"Oh?"
"I thought we might try hypnotism. Do you know what hypnotism is, Malcolm?"
"You put somebody to sleep."
"Not exactly. It's just a way to relax and let things come back that we misplaced somewhere."
"Does it hurt?"
"Not a bit. In fact, a lot of people say that it makes them feel better. Do you want to try it?"
The boy looked at Ramsay. "Is he going to stay?"
"Not if you don't want him to."
Malcolm considered for a moment. "It's all right; he can stay."
Ramsay pulled a chair back against the far wall and sat down out of the way.
"Now Malcolm," Holly began, "I want you to take three deep, deep breaths. All the way in and all the way out. That's good." She breathed in and out with him. So did Ramsay. "I bet you're feeling more relaxed and comfortable already. I know I am." She spoke in a slow, soothing tone.