Page 111 of Pieces of Her (Andrea Oliver 1)

Andy was frozen again, but not from fear. She wanted to hear what Paula had to say.

“Cool as a cucumber. Never cries over spilled milk. Trouble rolls off her like water off a duck’s back. That’s what we used to say about her. I mean, those of us who said anything. You know Laura Oliver, but you don’t know her. There’s only the surface. Still waters don’t run deep. Have you noticed?”

Andy wanted to shake her head, but she was paralyzed.

“I hate to say it kid, but your mother is full of the worst type of bullshit. That dumb bitch has always been an actress playing the role of her life. Haven’t you noticed?”

Andy finally managed to shake her head, but she was thinking—

Mom Mode. Healing Dr. Oliver Mode. Gordon’s Wife Mode.

“Stay here.” Paula left the room.

Andy could not have followed if she’d wanted to. She felt like her bare feet were glued to the tiled floor. Nothing this scary stranger had said about Laura was new information, but Paula had framed it in such a way that Andy was beginning to understand that the different facets of her mother weren’t pieces of a whole; they were camouflage.

You have no idea who I am. You never have and you never will.

“Are you still there?” Paula called from the other side of the house.

Andy rubbed her face. She had to forget what Paula had said for now and get the hell out of here. The woman was still dangerous. She was clearly working some kind of angle. Andy should never have come here.

She opened the desk drawer. She ripped the drawings of Hoodie and Mike out of the pad, shoved them into her back pocket, then pushed open the kitchen door.

She was met by Paula Kunde pointing a shotgun at her chest.

“Jesus Christ!” Andy fell back against the swinging door.

“Hold up your hands, you dimwit.”

Andy’s hands went up.

“Are you wired?”

“What?”

“Bugged. Mic’d.” Paula patted the front of Andy’s shirt first, then her pockets, down her legs and back up. “Did she send you here to trap me?”

“What?”

“Come on.” Paula pressed the muzzle into Andy’s sternum. “Speak, you little monkey. Who sent you?”

“N-n-body.”

“Nobody.” Paula snorted. “Tell your mother your stupid deer in the headlights act almost got me. But if I ever see you again, I’ll pull the trigger on this thing until it’s empty. And then I’ll reload and come after her.”

Andy almost lost control of her bladder. Every part of her body was shaking. She kept her hands up, her eyes on Paula, and walked backward down the hallway. She stumbled on the stair down into the sunken living room.

Paula rested the shotgun on her shoulder. She glared at Andy for another few seconds, then walked back into the kitchen.

Andy choked back bile as she turned to run. She sprinted past the couch, up the single stair to the foyer, and stumbled again on the tile floor. Pain shot into her knee, but she caught herself on the side table. Change spilled out of the glass bowl and tapped against the floor. Every nerve in her body was trapped inside the teeth of a bear trap. She could barely wedge her foot into her shoe. Then she realized the fucking socks were wadded up inside. She checked over her shoulder as she jammed the socks into her messenger bag and shoved her feet into the sneakers. Her hand was so sweaty she almost couldn’t turn the knob to open the front door.

Fuck.

Mike was standing on the front porch.

He grinned at Andy the same way he’d grinned at her when they were outside the bar in Muscle Shoals.

He said, “What a strange coinci—”