Page 107 of Strangers She Knows

“Ew.” Mara took a step back.

Mara had lived in prison, in that rough environment where women lived, worked and fought without privacy or kindness. But she had a streak of delicacy about her, probably the result of her elite childhood.

Kellen put her hand to her back and limped toward the bathroom, groaning as various aches and pains hit her. Sadly, she wasn’t exaggerating.

But Old Angel had told her to sleep and the solution to her struggle with Mara would present itself—and it had. It was a very final solution…if it worked.I know one sure way to finish Mara, and I have to do it today.

She used the toilet, washed her face and hands, drank water straight from the tap—there was no filter, and no glass, either—and wandered out, elaborately casual. “What a difference a day makes. Can you believe this weather?”

Mara scrutinized her, the damp hair around her face, her offhand air, and kept her shotgun pointed right at Kellen. “You make me want to change my mind.”

“Then let’s hurry and start the game.” Kellen headed out the door. She listened for footsteps that followed. She listened for the blast of the shotgun. Foolish, for if Mara shot, she wouldn’t hear anything ever again. But nonetheless, the hair rose on the back of her neck.

She heard footsteps behind her, and Mara said spitefully, “You carry on and on about Rae, about how you love her and that’s the reason you want to kill me. You never mention the real reason you want to win.”

Kellen stopped on her way out the door. “What’s that?”

“You’re afraid to die.”

“I’m afraid to die?”

“Everybody’s afraid to die. Except me.” Mara sounded so certain. “I’m not afraid to die.”

Kellen started down the corridor toward the stairs, and she thought hard about Mara’s comment. “You don’t believe it’s possible for you to die. You’re a child who’s never had to live with the consequences of your actions. That’s not the same.” Without drawing breath to allow Mara to speak, she said, “Iamafraid to die. But I almost died when I was married to my first husband, and almost died again when I was shot in the head, and was blown up while I was in the Army. I almost died after brain surgery, and the life I have now is precious to me.” At the top of the stairs, she turned to face Mara. “It’s precious to me because of the people who are in my life. Max and Rae.” She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. She marched into the pantry and grabbed five nutrition bars.

She inspected the seals on each one. None had been tampered with.

When she came out, Mara was handling the shotgun with the loving care of a Chicago gangster. “I’m not feeling as lenient as I was yesterday, so try to stay conscious or I’ll be forced to kill you while you stare, eyes wide and your mind vacant.”

“You can’t use a Taser on me, so I should be fine.” Kellen peeled back the packaging of a nutrition bar and took a big bite. “Even if you could, and did, there would be no one to watch how cleverly you’ve destroyed me.” She chewed thoroughly. “It always seems to be that way for you, doesn’t it?”

“I work in the shadows,” Mara said softly.

“No one appreciates you or gives you credit. Why, if I lost consciousness, not even me, your best friend, would know that you killed me.”

Mara’s blue eyes blazed in fanatical fury. “Stay conscious, then.”

Kellen had thought this out. Thought it through carefully. She had to keep Mara simmering with anger, make sure she was on the edge of mania, and at the same time keep her from prematurely killing Kellen in a last, murderous act of vengeance. “You know, Mara, you think you know me. You think we were once best friends. But you don’t even know my real name.”

“You’re Kellen Adams. KellenRaeAdams.” Mara was obviously proud of herself that she knew Kellen’s middle name.

“Kellen Rae Adams was my cousin.” Kellen finished up the nutrition bar and threw the wrapper on the floor. “I’m Cecilia Adams.”

The wrapper rolled toward the cabinet and under the toe kick.

Mara watched the motion, mesmerized, then returned her gaze to Kellen. For the first time today, she seemed more bewildered than lethal. “Why are you telling such an outrageous lie?”

“You know me so well. You know I wouldn’t tell you a lie.” Kellen made her voice warm and persuasive. “I’m not who you think I am. When my first husband killed my cousin Kellen Rae, I took her identity. I’ve been homeless, served in the military, had a baby, married Max, survived brain surgery—and all the while I’ve been lying about who I am. I’m Cecilia. Trust me, Mara. I’m Cecilia.”

“No,” Mara breathed.

“Everything you’ve told yourself all these years about you and me, and what friends we are, and how we know each other—none of it is true. I lied to you. I’ve lied to the whole world.” Kellen leaned her palms on the kitchen table, leaned toward Mara, and said, “I’m telling you the truth now, so you know—you can never kill Kellen Rae Adams. She was brave. She was strong. She was your worthy opponent—and she’s already dead.” Kellen’s voice caught on a shard of familiar sorrow.

That, more than anything, helped the information sink into Mara’s brain. The manic blue eyes lost their heat, grew cool and deadly.

Kellen allowed her old grief and guilt, and the love she had felt for her cousin, to drive the point home. “I’m Cecilia. Killing me means nothing.”

“Killing you will make me happy.” Mara pointed the shotgun at Kellen. “I’ll give you a ten-minute start.”

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