Free The Abduction by John Grisham Page A

dwell on it. And, his brain was already overloaded. Judge, no doubt because of the sausage, was scratching at the door.
    Woods Boone had breakfast five days a week at the same table in the same downtown diner with the same group of friends at the same time, 7:00. Because of this, Theo rarely saw his father in the morning. Theo received a peck on the cheek from his mother, who was still in her robe, as they exchanged good morning and compared how they slept. Marcella, when she wasn’t tied up in court, spent the early part of each Friday morning getting worked on. Hair, nails, toes. As a professional, she was serious about her appearance. Her husband was not quite as concerned about his.
    “No news on April,” Mrs. Boone said. The small television next to the microwave was not on.
    “What does that mean?” Theo asked as he took a seat. Judge was standing next to the stove, as close to the sausage as he could possibly get.
    “It means nothing, at least for now,” she said as she placed a plate in front of Theo. A stack of small round pancakes, three links of sausage. She poured him a glass of milk.
    “Thanks, Mom. This is awesome. What about Judge?”
    “Of course,” she said as she placed a small plate in front of the dog. Pancakes and sausage, too.
    “Dig in.” She took her seat and looked at the large breakfast sitting in front of her son. She sipped her coffee. Theo had no choice but to eat like he was starving. After a few bites, he said, “Delicious, Mom.”
    “Thought you might need something extra this morning.”
    “Thanks.”
    After a pause in which she watched him closely, she said, “Theo, are you all right? I mean, I know this is just awful, but how are you handling it?”
    It was easier to chew than to talk. Theo had no answer. How do you describe your emotions when a close friend is abducted and probably tossed in a river? How do you express your sadness when that friend was a neglected kid from a strange family with nutty parents, a kid who didn’t have much of a chance?
    Theo kept chewing. When he had to say something, he sort of grunted, “I’m okay, Mom.” It was not the truth, but at the moment it was all he could manage.
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    Ah, the perfect question. Theo shook his head and said, “No, I do not. That just makes it worse.”
    She smiled and said, “Okay, I understand.”
    Fifteen minutes later, Theo hopped on his bike, rubbed Judge’s head, and said good-bye, then flew down the Boones’ driveway and onto Mallard Lane.
    Long before Theo was born, Ike Boone had been a lawyer. He had founded the firm with Theo’s parents. The three lawyers worked well together and prospered, until Ike did something wrong. Something bad. Whatever Ike did, it was not discussed in Theo’s presence. Naturally curious, and raised by two lawyers, Theo had been pecking away at Ike’s mysterious downfall for several years, but he had learned little. His father rebuffed all nosiness with a brusque, “We’ll discuss it when you get older.” His mother usually said something like, “Your father will explain it one day.”
    Theo knew only the basics: (1) Ike had once been a smart and successful tax lawyer; (2) then he went to prison for several years; (3) he was disbarred and can never be a lawyer again; (4) while he was in prison, his wife divorced him and left Strattenburg with their three children; (5) the children, Theo’s first cousins, were much older than Theo and he’d never met them; and (6) relations between Ike and Theo’s parents were not that good.
    Ike eked out a living as a tax accountant for small businesses and a few other clients. He lived alone in a tiny apartment. He liked to think of himself as a misfit, even a rebel against the establishment. He wore weird clothes, long, gray hair pulled into a ponytail, sandals (even in cold weather), and usually had the Grateful Dead or Bob Dylan playing on the cheap stereo in his office. He worked above a Greek