Michael studied her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He stood. “I have to get something in the kitchen.”

“All right,” she said.

The second he was gone, Kelly crossed the living room and knelt beside Julie. Grabbing the woman by the hair, she raised Julie’s head and checked her closed eyes. White marbles, the pupils were rolled back. Julie had been drugged.

Kelly returned to her seat. She put her finger on the trigger of her gun.

Nine months ago would not repeat itself.

She was ready. She waited—a minute, two.

She did not see the gun until it had extended a foot through the window. He had come at her from the outside. She had not anticipated that.

There was ice in her head. Emptiness in her heart.

She could not believe it was happening again.

“Hand me your gun slowly, the barrel pointed toward yourself,” he said.

She did as she was told. Michael stuffed the gun in his shorts and easily climbed through the window. He crouched on the floor in front of her. He looked rather pleased with himself. She had never seen that cockiness in him before.

“You know,” he said.

She acted innocent. “I don’t understand.”

He smiled and pointed his gun at her forehead. “What is my name?”

He would just shoot her. “Scott Banks,” she whispered.

He lowered the gun. “Very good. How did you figure it out?”

“An asshole smells like an asshole.”

“Gene told me you had a sense of humor. I’ll have to tell him what you just said. He’ll like that.”

“Does he like you fucking his wife?”

“He doesn’t mind.”

Kelly nodded to Julie. “Did she know you were his brother?”

“No. The cunt never suspected.”

“Is that all she is to you?”

“What is this? A counseling session?”

“I assume you’re going to kill me in a few minutes. You can indulge my curiosity for that length of time. Is that too much to ask?”

He gestured with his gun. His body language had undergone a metamorphosis. The sweet man she had known as Michael Grander was gone. The guy who gloated in front of her was worse than white trash. Only it was not that simple. He had not lost his sophistication, he had merely chosen to hide it. The distinction was important and made sense to her. He probably didn’t have a genuine split personality—those were rare. He had lived a double life so long, it was just easy for him to switch from one personality to another. He acted like he had just lost forty IQ points, but it was an act. He could be as smart as his brother. Yet unlike Gene, Kelly sensed crudeness in Michael. She was furious that she had not seen it earlier. Just two minutes earlier.

“What do you want to know?” he said.

“I asked your brother this question. Why?”

“What do you mean?”