Page 93 of Strangers She Knows

“Sorry! You were a dead weight.”

With Mara’s half-assed apology, Kellen judged the immediate danger was over, and walked toward the kitchen again. Once there, she went to the refrigerator, removed the leftover pizza, and placed it on the counter. “Want a slice?”

Mara wandered over, pistol held at ready. “Sure. But I’ll use the oven. The microwave makes the crust tough.”

Such a domestic scene. Kellen wanted to laugh. Two mortal enemies discussing the best way to heat up a slice of pizza! But if she did laugh, she was pretty sure it would sound like hysteria.

She found a cookie sheet, handed it to Mara, and let her deal with the oven and the pizza while Kellen poured milk and water into the glasses. More and more, her hands tingled, the tips of her fingers hurt; the pain was a promise of better times. She put a bowl of fresh apricots and a bowl of cherry tomatoes on the table, and set two places.

All the time she was thinking—what could she do with a fork? Could she break a glass and slice Mara’s throat? Knock her out with a cast iron skillet? None of those would work. She needed skill and speed, and as sensation gradually returned to her fingers, they twitched uncontrollably.

Mara leaned against the counter and smiled, and negligently pointed Max’s pistol at her. “I can see you casting around for a way out. There isn’t one.”

“There isn’t one for you, either.”

“When this is over and I’ve killed you, law enforcement will arrive and take me away. They’ll return me to prison and put me in solitary confinement. I’ll spend a couple of years learning something that will help me escape. Or I’ll escape the good old-fashioned way, using sex, intimidation and bribes. Once again, I’ll be out in the world, doing what I want. I’ll bet you a hundred dollars.”

Kellen seated herself at the table and took an apricot from the bowl. “If I’m dead, how are you going to collect?”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” Mara frowned. The timer went off. She removed the pizza, used a long, sharp knife to cut slices, and put them on a platter in the middle of the table. “Are you a fan of Lewis Carroll?”

Pausing in the act of sliding pizza onto her plate, Kellen asked, “What?”

“You called me the Queen of Hearts. Have you readAlice in Wonderland?‘Off with her head!’” Mara snapped the napkin loose and placed it in her lap. “As a child,Alice in Wonderlandwas one of my favorites.”

“That figures.” Kellen took a bite, chewed, swallowed and put down her pizza. “Wait. You couldn’t read.”

“Before I started school, my father read to me.”

“You had a father who read to you? Sounds like a nice guy.” Which made Mara’s idiosyncrasies all the more bizarre.

“My father taught English composition at an elite school, Heatherwood Academy outside of Leeds, England. To him, the only thing that mattered wasliterature.”Mara rolled out the word like a royal red carpet over castle steps. “He taught me the importance of proper behavior, of making the right friends, and to appreciate the grandeur of the English language.”

“But not to read.” That didn’t add up.

“Shut up.”

Mara’s voice was so vicious, Kellen took another bite of the pizza, chewed carefully and changed the subject. “You drugged Dylan.”

Mara shrugged.

“You sent him to kill Jamie.”

“Someone needed to. That woman was annoying.”

“So are you. No one’s managed to off you yet, although God knows you deserve it.” Kellen ladled out justice, and waited to see how Mara would respond.

“I deserve nothing except what I work for. You, too. You know that.”

That was fair. “Where’s her body?”

Mara seemed genuinely confused. “Whose?”

“Jamie’s!”

“Why would I know? I didn’thelpDylan kill her. I didn’twatchto see what he did with her. I merelysetevents in motion.”

“She deserves a resting place.” Surely that woman who worshipped the natural world should be interred in the good earth.

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