A few minutes later Quarry was eying Diane Wohl as she sat on her haunches in the far corner of her “cell” from him. He should have felt sympathy for her too, but he didn’t. Willa was a child. She hadn’t had a chance to make choices. And mistakes. This woman here had done both.
“Can I ask you a question?” Wohl said in a shaky voice.
Quarry sat down at the small table in the middle of the room. Part of him was still dwelling on Willa. But he said, “Shoot.”
“Can I make a phone call to my mother? To let her know I’m okay?”
“Can’t do that. These days they can trace anything. Government eye in the sky. Sorry. Just the way it is.”
“Well, then can you let her know I’m okay?”
“I might be able to do that. Give me her address.”
He handed her a pencil and a slip of paper. Her brow
furrowed as she wrote it down and then handed him back the paper. She asked, “Why did you take my blood?”
“I needed it for something.”
“What?”
Quarry looked around at the small space. It wasn’t a fancy hotel, but Quarry had lived in worse. He had tried to provide everything the woman needed to be comfortable.
I’m not evil , he told himself. If he kept thinking it, maybe he’d start believing it.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She appeared startled by this but nodded.
“You have any kids?”
“What? No, no, I never did. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
She drew nearer to him. Like Willa she had changed into fresh clothes. Quarry had brought along the outfits she’d purchased from Talbot’s. They fit nicely.
“Are you going to let me go?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how things turn out. I can tell you that I am not by nature a violent man. But I also can’t predict the future.”
She sat down at the table across from him and clasped her hands together.
“I can’t think of one thing I’ve done in my life that would make you do this to me. I don’t even know you. What have I done? What the hell have I done to deserve this?”
“You did one thing,” said Quarry.
She looked up. “What? Tell me!”
“I’ll let you think of it yourself. You sure got some time to do that.”
CHAPTER 22
IT WAS EARLY MORNING as the puddle-jumper bounced along the tops of the grayish clouds lingering from a storm that had already passed over the Smoky Mountains. Later, as the plane descended into the Nashville airport, Michelle continued to do what she had done the entire flight: stare at her hands.