“And as for you, Evelyn,” I said.

“You wanted to see who would come for me.

You wrote it down.

You wanted me to sit alone in that room and understand that no one would come, because I have no family, because I am an orphan, because you were certain that a woman alone is a woman without power.” And I gestured, then, with an unhurried sweep of my arm, to the six federal marshals, and the officers of the child abduction unit, and the caseworker, and the lawyers, and Martin Shaw, the entire assembled apparatus of law and consequence that had crossed an ocean and a continent to stand in that terminal on my behalf.

“You wanted to see who comes for me,” I said.