The law library was on the third floor of the courthouse and was seldom used. In fact, it saw so little traffic that the county supervisors were toying with the idea of getting rid of the outdated and dusty collection of ancient tomes and using the space for storage. The lawyers and judges were fighting back, thus creating another rancorous turf battle small towns are famous for. In years past, Harry Rex had been known to eavesdrop on jury deliberations through a heating vent, but a renovation tightened up the walls.
When they were alone, he said, “Lowell Dyer is calling a special meeting of his grand jury for tomorrow, and they’re meeting down in Smithfield. Believe that?”
Jake was thoroughly baffled. “Say what?”
“You heard me. The Ford County grand jury will convene itself in the courthouse in Smithfield.”
“In another county?”
“That’s right. Ain’t never heard of it before. I checked the statute and it’s pretty vague, but it does not prevent him from doing so.”
“Any idea why?”
“Sure. It’s all a big secret. He has informed his grand jury that the meetin’ is extremely confidential and they are to tell no one about it.”
“Mack?”
“I’d bet on it. Can you think of another crime in this county in the past year that anyone gives a shit about? There’s been nothin’。 Breakins, burglaries, honky-tonk fights, the usual run-of-the-mill crap, but nothin’ even remotely interesting.”
Jake was shaking his head. “No, folks are behaving. I’m in the middle of a long dry run in my office. We need some more crime.”
“It’s gotta be Mack. Dyer’s afraid Mack’ll pull another vanishin’ act and disappear. So, he gets an indictment out of town, sits on it until somebody finds Mack, then arrests him. And, I’ll bet he’s doin’ what the Feds tell him.”
Other than the startling news, the obvious question was: How did Harry Rex know about a secret meeting of the grand jury? Jake wanted to ask, but he knew there would be no answer. His close friend moved in mysterious circles and had a wide net of informants. Sometimes he shared the inside dirt, often he did not, but he never revealed a source.
Jake asked, “So you think the Feds are a step ahead?”
“I’ll bet they have an indictment and are sittin’ on it. They gave Dyer the green light. It makes sense and it’s a smart move. You got federal charges and you got state charges, multiple indictments, and suddenly everyone is lookin’ for Mack.”
“You’re his lawyer. What’s your advice?”
“Get the hell out of town. Again.”
（38）
Two weeks after her mother’s funeral, and ten days after moving into the home of her grandparents, Margot woke up on a Saturday at 8:00 a.m., an early hour for her, and quickly showered and dressed in jeans and sneakers. At the breakfast table she was polite to Hermie and Honey because they were trying to be polite to her, but the tension was palpable. They had some rules they wanted to impose, and Margot seemed determined to ignore them. One rule was about respect—respect for elders, for grandparents, for her guardians now. She accepted this and asked that they respect her as a seventeen-year-old young woman who had a mind of her own. She had an appointment at 1:00 p.m. that day with an admissions counselor at Millsaps College in Jackson, and she was certainly capable of driving herself down there and back. The trip to Rhodes in Memphis had been a breeze. Hermie and Honey didn’t like the idea at all and had made the mistake of saying no. A disagreement followed, and though all sides managed to keep their cool and not say anything they would regret later, two things became apparent: （1） the Bunnings were not quick enough to verbally spar with Margot, and （2） she had no plans to spend the next year taking orders from them.
She left at ten and thoroughly enjoyed the open road, all alone with her choice of music and the entire day to spend as she wanted.
She had never visited Millsaps, knew no one there, and was certain she wouldn’t fit. Like Rhodes, it was too close to home. But she would visit and collect the brochures to leave on the kitchen table. And she would apply there in the fall, as she would Rhodes and Ole Miss and maybe some others not too far away. She would lean toward Ole Miss because the in-state tuition chatter would ease Hermie’s concerns. She would make the usual fuss over the application process, feign the usual angst and anxiety, and include her grandparents from time to time to make them feel better, but she would not tell them about the two art schools out west. Nor would she tell Helen, at least not anytime soon. She was waiting for Helen to grow up and leave behind the adolescent routine, but there was little sign of progress.