She dropped off to sleep again and Dillon, turning in his seat to pour a Bushmills, found Hal Stone observing him. “What do you think?” the professor asked. “How in the hell is she ever going to get over what’s happened?” Her father was also dozing, an arm around her, and Dillon looked at them again. “There’s the mother, a pretty remarkable lady, but I don’t know.” He shook his head. “She’s got a lot to cut free from.” “Hussein Rashid, for one thing.” “Oh, him most of all,” Dillon said. Hal Stone nodded. “At least there’s a few thousand miles between them, and little likelihood of her ever having to see him again.” “Let’s hope so,” Dillon said, and Lacey’s voice over the intercom announced, “Farley Field in fifteen minutes. It’s midnight right now, so that means we’re moving into a new day, and if you’re listening, Sara, God bless and welcome home.” She sat up next to her father, slightly dazed as the plane coasted down. What happened next was all a strange confusion in which everything happened in slow motion: the Gulfstream landing, Parry opening the door, people outside, rain falling quite fast, then going down the steps ahead of her father and her mother crying out her name and throwing her arms about her fiercely.
