Owen Weaver survived. His lungs were damaged, and he would always walk with a limp, but he would live.
Louis survived. He was concerned that his principal sexual organ might never be the same, but the doctors assured him it would continue to function as well as before, just not for a little while. Parker, nursing a busted ankle, advised Louis to think clean thoughts. Louis told Parker to go fuck himself.
And Angel survived, although he was quieter now, and sometimes he found himself numbering his days.
In the matter of Daniel Weaver there would be pain and recriminations, court cases, and custody hearings. Moxie Castin would do what he could for all involved, and because Moxie was a most accomplished attorney, nobody would serve jail time, and Daniel Weaver would call Holly Weaver, and no other, his mother. The tale of the “Woman in the Woods” would enter the lore of the state, and like all good stories much of the truth of it was destined to remain hidden.
The man named Quayle vanished, and the woman called Mors vanished with him, although she left a trail of blood in her wake, both figuratively and literally.
Louis was right. He had hit her.
For the time being, Parker chose to store in a safe-deposit box the single vellum page he had kept from Quayle, while Bob Johnston worked on establishing its provenance.
And eventually, Parker sat down with SAC Edgar Ross of the FBI, and shared with him most of what he knew about Quayle and the vellum leaves. Parker did so with some reluctance. Ross had once sent a private detective to spy on Sam, Parker’s daughter—why, Parker did not know—although Parker had decided to keep his knowledge of the surveillance to himself, for now.
So he did not entirely trust Ross.
But then, Parker had never entirely trusted Ross.