Page 112 of Dead Girl Running

He chilled her with his detached evaluation. She gestured Max over. “Did you call Sheriff Kwinault?”

“She’s on her way.” Max loomed, unmoving.

Nils ignored him. “A local sheriff will probably be outmatched. Mara will attempt to escape without a care to who or what she hurts.” He didn’t sound ominous. He sounded matter-of-fact, and that made it all the more chilling. “She is the Librarian.”

“She’s illiterate,” Max added.

Both Nils and Kellen started and stared.

Nils grunted. “That could explain a lot.”

Max radiated a solid satisfaction.

But all this information sent chills up Kellen’s neck. Annie had left her in charge of the resort, and Kellen had visions of explosions and flames. Urgently, she said, “We’ve got to get Mara out of here. You said it yourself. She’s a serial killer. That makes her the responsibility of the FBI. Get her out of here.” Kellen sounded excessively pleasant, and she put her hand on her knife. “Get her out of here or I’ll neutralize her myself.”

Mara was definitely conscious, for at Kellen’s threat she flinched a little.

Good. She was smart enough to fear Kellen.

“Get me a phone,” Nils said. “I’ll make some calls.”

Someone rang the suite’s doorbell.

“I called for a first aid kit,” Max told them and looked through the peephole. “I thought Nils would like to stop bleeding on the carpet.”

Kellen felt foolish for thinking Max needed to be defended, for reacting like a Victorian maiden to Max’s embrace and, most of all, for caring whether Nils noticed she had a thing for Max. Nils had kissed her a couple of times. He’d gone out and gotten into a fight because he was horny. So what? What happened between her and Max was nobody’s business but theirs, and furthermore, what had happened in the past was…

She slid down the wall. Everything in her future hinged on the past. Maybe that was always true, but at least now she knew. Didn’t she?

Max answered the door. Frances stood there, wide-eyed. She looked at the guns, looked at the knife, looked at the blood, handed Max the first aid kit, and in a slow, graceful slither, she fainted. Max caught her in one arm, handed Nils the kit and lowered her to the floor.

Kellen got up—rising was easier this time—and walked over to Mara.

MARA PHILIPPI:

FEMALE, WHITE, TANNED. HEALTHY, 5’6”, 130 LBS. EMPLOYED 8 YRS. SPA MANAGER. AGGRESSIVELY PHYSICALLY FIT.EAST COAST STREAKED-BLONDE PREPPIE.BLUE EYES.DORIAN GRAY PERFECTION OF SKIN TONE.BATTERED, BRUISED. UNCLEAR ON DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WAR ZONE AND GYMNASIUM. SMUGGLER. SERIAL KILLER. LIAR. ACTRESS. MASSIVE EGO. DO NOT LIKE.NO GOOD REASON.EVERY REASON.

Kellen should have trusted her instincts.

She knelt beside her, close enough to speak quietly, close enough to get in Mara’s face. “Your nose is broken.”

Mara pretended to be unconscious.

“That’s going to ruin your chances for the International Ninja Challenge.”

As Kellen had known she would, Mara opened her eyes. They snapped and sparked with fury. “You think I’m done? I’ll never be done.”

“You gave Lloyd Magnuson that heroin.”

Mara’s lips curled in a smile, and her lashes fluttered. “The poor dear man simply needed a bit of seduction and a push in the right direction. He was an addict through and through.”

Kellen had never seen the truth behind the mask Mara wore, because Mara believed she was justified in every cruelty, in every murder. “How did you find Priscilla’s body? Where did you take it?”

Mara’s smile disappeared. “We didn’tfindit. I’m not so sloppy. I put a tracker on Lloyd. Mitch followed the signal and retrieved Priscilla’s body. I didn’t need any surprises popping out of her other shoe.” Mara’s eyes narrowed. “Who knew that bitch could be so devious?”

“You just confessed to killing her.” Mara wasn’t stupid; did she consider herself above the law? Or, more likely, that she would never go to trial?

“There’s no corpse to be found,” Mara said. “Not this time.”