David Baldacci - First Family

Michelle did not want to remember her mother this way, but she had to come here. She had to see the brutal effects that the work of someone had done on the woman who over three decades ago had given birth to her. She was tempted to angle her mother's head around, to look at the wound site for herself, but she resisted this impulse. It would be disrespectful, and if the ME couldn't figure out the weapon used there was little hope that Michelle could.

She imagined her mother's last moments. Had she seen her killer? Had she known him or her? Did she know the reason she'd been struck down? Had she felt any pain?

And the last and most crushing thought of all.

Had her father killed her mother?

She took her mom's hand and stroked it. She said things to the dead woman that she had never managed to say while Sally had been alive. It left Michelle feeling emptier than before. And lately her depressions had often run cavern-deep.

Five minutes later she was out in the fresh air, sucking in as much oxygen as she could. The drive home was lost in memories of her mother. When she pulled into the driveway of their house, Michelle just sat there for a bit trying to compose herself.

Her father had made dinner. Michelle sat down to eat with him. Her brothers had gone out together to do some bonding, she supposed, while also giving their kid sister time alone with the old man.

"Good soup," she said.

Frank spooned a bit of chicken and broth into his mouth. "Made it from scratch. I've been doing more and more of the cooking over the years." He added with a bit of resentment, "You wouldn't know that, of course."

She leaned back, broke off a bit of a roll, and chewed it slowly, thinking of how to respond to this. On one level there was no response. She hadn't been around. She wouldn't have known about that. On another level she wondered why he would be throwing a guilt trip on her right now.

"Mom kept busy too?"

"She had her friends. Your mother was always more social than me. I guess it was the job. Had to keep a certain distance. She never had that impediment."

And bitterness?

"Never knew when one of your buddies might break the law?" Even as she was saying the words, Michelle wished she had hauled them back into her mouth before they'd gained traction outside her head.

He took a long moment before answering. "Something like that."

"Anybody in particular? Friends, I mean?"

"Girlfriends," he said. "Rhonda, Nancy, Emily, Donna."

"So what'd they do?"

"Played cards. Shopped. Lots of golf. Lunch. Gossip. The things retired ladies do."

"You never joined them?"

"On occasion I did. But it was more a girl's thing."

"Who was she going to see that night?"

Again, he took another long moment to answer. If she were a gambler, Michelle would've wagered her father was about to tell her a lie.

"Donna, at least I think. Dinner, I believe she said. I can't be sure. Just said it in passing."

"Donna have a last name?"

This time there was no long moment. "Why?" he shot back.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to know Donna's last name?"

"Well, has anyone called her and told her that the reason Mom didn't make it was because she was dead?"

"I don't care for your tone, little girl."

"Dad, I haven't been a little girl for over twenty years."

He put down his spoon. "I called her. Okay? It's not that big of a town anyway. She'd already heard."

"So it was Donna that Mom was going to see?"

For an instant he looked confused, unsure of himself. "What? Yes, I think it was."

Michelle felt a wrenching pain in her chest. She rose, made a mindless excuse, and left the house. Outside, she phoned the only person she had ever allowed herself to really trust.

Sean King had just landed at Washington Dulles.

"I need you," she said, after filling him in on what had happened.

Sean went in search of a flight to Nashville.

YOU COULD'VE KILLED YOURSELF," snapped Quarry as he sat across from Willa back in her "cell."

"I'm a prisoner here and prisoners have to try and escape," she said right back to him. "It's their job. Like everybody knows that."

Quarry drummed his long, thick fingers on the tabletop. He'd confiscated Willa's lock-picking tools and removed all the canned food too. He'd also had Daryl and Carlos install additional security on the door.

"Who's Diane?" Willa asked.

"A lady," Quarry said gruffly.

"That I already know. Why is she here?"

"None of your business."

He rose to leave.

"Thank you, by the way."

Quarry turned looking surprised. "For what?"

"You saved my life. But for you, I'd be at the bottom of that mountain."

"You're welcome. But don't try anything like that again."

"Can I see Diane again?"

"Maybe."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you know? It's a pretty simple request."

"Why do you ask so many questions when I'm not answering any of them?" Quarry said, evidently both frustrated and intrigued by the girl's tenacity.

"Because I keep hoping that sometime you will start answering them," she said brightly.

"You're not like any little girl I ever met before. I take that back. You do remind me of somebody."

"Who?"

"Just somebody."

He locked the door behind him and slid the thick board into place on the outside of the room. Even if Willa somehow managed to pick the lock once more, she would not be able to swing open the door.

As he walked along he pulled the pieces of paper out of his pocket. These papers were the reason he had flown here today. He reached the door and knocked.

Diane's tremulous voice said, "Who is it?"

"I need to talk to you," he called through the door. "Are you decent? Cleaned up after your little trip outside?"

"Yes."

He unlocked the door and walked in.

Like Willa's they'd set the space up with a cot, small table, a lantern, portable toilet, water and soap for bathing, canned food and water, and some clothes. Diane had exchanged the dirty clothes she had been wearing when trying to escape with another pair of slacks and a white blouse.

Quarry closed the door behind him. "I just talked to Willa."

"Please don't hurt her for what she did."

"I'm not planning on hurting her." He added in a grim tone, "Unless you two pull something like that again. There's no way out of here even if you do get out of the mine."

"Why are you doing this?"

He sat down at the table and held up the pieces of paper. "This is why." He nodded to the only other chair in the room. "You want to sit down?"

"I want to go home."

"You need to look at this."

Gathering her courage, Wohl moved forward slightly. "If I do will you let me go?" Her voice was pleading, her eyes filling with tears. It was as though she desperately wanted to hear something from him that would allow for her eventual freedom.

"Well, I'm not going to keep you here much longer, that's for sure."

"Why did you bring me here? And Willa?"

"I needed you both," Quarry said simply. "None of what I need to do was gonna happen without you." He held up the papers. "I sent the blood I took from you in to a place that ran a bunch of tests on it. DNA tests. I could've just done a swab from inside your cheek but my reading on the subject made me believe working with the blood was just as good if not better. I didn't want any mistakes."

"Yeah. Like fingerprints, only better. They use it all the time to get folks off Death Row that're innocent."

"I've committed no crimes."

"Never said you did." He looked at the pieces of paper, silently reading off the results again. "But you did give birth to a little girl twelve years ago. Gave birth but then you gave her up. Did you enjoy seeing her again today?"