Diana Gabaldon · @Writer_DG
26th Sep 2013 from TwitLonger
#DailyLines #MOBY #WrittenINMyOWNHeartsBLOOD #Book8 #OutMARCH25th #warmercolder
“Can you tell when Jem’s at school?”
“Yes. He goes on da bus.” Mandy bounced a little on her booster seat, leaning to peer out the window. She was wearing the Halloween mask Bree had helped her make, this being a Mouse Princess: a mouse-face drawn with crayons on a paper plate, with holes pierced for eyes and at either side for pink yarn ties, more pink yarn glued on for whiskers, and a precarious small crown made with cardboard, more glue and most of a bottle of gold glitter.
Scots celebrated Samhain with hollowed-out turnips with candles in them, but Brianna had wanted a slightly more festive tradition for her half-American children. The whole front seat sparkled as though the car had been sprinkled with pixie dust.
She smiled, despite her worry.
“I meant, if you played warmer/colder with Jem, could you do it if he wasn’t answering you out loud? Would you know if he was closer or farther away?”
Mandy kicked the back of the seat in meditative fashion.
“Maybe.”
“Can you try?” They were headed toward Inverness. That was where Jem had been supposed to be, spending the night with Rob Cameron’s nephew.
“OK,” Mandy said agreeably. She hadn’t asked where Rob Cameron was. Brianna spared a thought as to the fate of her prisoner. She really _would_ shoot him through the ankles, elbows, knees, or anything else necessary to find out where Jem was—but if there were quieter ways of interrogation, it would be better all round. It wouldn’t be good for Jem and Mandy to have their mother sent to prison for life, particularly if Roger-- She choked that thought off and stepped harder on the gas.
“Colder,” Mandy announced, so suddenly that Brianna nearly stalled the car.
“What? Do you mean we’re getting farther away from where Jemmy is?”
“Uh-huh.”
Brianna took a deep breath and made a U-turn, narrowly avoiding an oncoming panel truck, which hooted at them in annoyance.
“Right,” she said, gripping the wheel with sweaty hands. “We’ll go the other way.”