“She went there?”
“Once. Rode her bike about a third of the way and then a woman from their church gave her a lift the rest, thinking she was going to a friend’s. She was out there maybe twenty minutes.”
And I said: “And she saw her.”
And Ray said, as gently as a big man can say anything:
“Mr. Miller, she talked to her. Through a screen door.”
I went out into that hallway above the dentist’s office and stood by the window for about three minutes.
Because my granddaughter rode a bicycle eleven miles, by herself, at seven years old, and talked to her own mother through a screen door, and then went home and sat at a dinner table, and then came and ate strawberry swirl ice cream with me under an oak tree four more times before she could get up the nerve to say eight words.
And Mark’s Threat, Which Was Not a Movie Threat and Which Worked Perfectly
