Page 112 of Strangers She Knows

“Come on,” she whispered. “Blow!” How long until the fuse burned down?

Max had never succeeded in making the truck run… He was going to have a hard time with this loss, and the loss of all his beloved equipment… But he was a sensible man and valued her life more than a truck… She was pretty sure…

She narrowed her eyes at the garage. Maybe, when this was over, she would go looking for a truck for him to repair. A goldenrod-yellow F-100. That would ease whatever heartbreak he felt from—

From inside the garage, she heard the roar of an engine.

What the hell?

The truck came blasting through the garage doors, driven with maniacal fervor by a grinning killer.

47

No!

What the hell?

No!

How was this possible?

Max hadn’t managed to get the truck running. He hadn’t…

Wait. She remembered. When Rae had come home, horrified by her encounter with the blood-soaked Dylan, Max had been under the truck. That day, he had been sure he would get it running.

Well, he had. “Oh, Max,” she moaned. Of course, once his baby girl had been stricken, he never thought of the damned truck again.

Did he even know?

Mara raced forward, gaining speed through the wet grass, toward Kellen.

Great. The woman could drive a stick shift.

As the sun lit the interior of the truck’s cab, Kellen could see her, Mara Philippi, maniacal and vengeful, with black hair that stood up like aBride of Frankensteinparody.

Kellen ran.

She ran harder than she had ever run in her life. Because if Mara got close before the dynamite blew, Kellen would be blasted to kingdom come accompanied by her worst enemy. They might not both be going to the same eventual destination, but by God, Kellen didn’t want to make the journey with Mara.

Kellen dashed.

She sprinted.

Only one thing saved her: that low tire gave the truck a terrifying shimmy. The front bumper dragged through the grass.

Behind her, the engine roared, closer and closer.

Come on. Come on. Dynamite, explode!

She had placed tape across the eight feet of fuse wire several times. Was it still alight? Or, slapped by wet grass and spattered with mud, had it sputtered out, leaving Kellen to die at Mara’s hands?

No. No! In less than a half mile, the cliffs dropped straight into the ocean. Kellen would jump to her death before she let Mara kill her. Before she would let Mara win.

Why doesn’t the truck explode?

And, she knew, Mara would follow her over.

Behind her, the engine revved.

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