Winona Eads stood then too, awkwardly, her strangely skewed eyes looking at Phyllis's disappearing back longingly. The possibility of discovering what had really happened to Shayla Greenfree seemed to be dissolving, for all of Ivan's efforts. And possibly because of Yvette's. The group approach wasn't going to work. We'd have to talk to everyone separately. I looked over at Wayne and hoped he'd received my unvoiced message. Then I jumped up and stepped out of the circle, jogging to a position near the front door to head off Winona. "Hey there, Winona," I said just as her long legs swept her into my speed trap. "Could I talk to you?" "Um, I guess so," she mumbled, looking down at her running shoes. "I mean really talk," I went on. "Maybe at your home ..." I let my sentence dribble away nonthreateningly. I didn't want to scare her off. And I could already smell an acrid hint of fear emanating from her tall body.
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