“In this broken-down old house? Yes.” He took Kellen’s fragile, still recalcitrant hand, and massaged the palm and the fingers. “But what it all comes down to is—where’s Mara Philippi? Is she trying to flush us out? We don’t want to run into her arms.”

“We also don’t want to stay and be sitting ducks.”

“Exactly. So it’s up to us whether to go or stay, but either way, we should be ready to make the jump.” He watched her face. “What’s wrong?”

Wretched, she said, “I’m sorry I brought this on our family.”

“It’s not your fault.” He was fierce in his defense. “It’s hers.”

“I do know that, but I look back at that winter at Yearning Sands Resort when I was assistant manager and Mara was the spa manager, and I try to think—what clues did I miss? She always seemed perky, shallow, competitive, but I thought she wanted to be friends. Instead, she was picking out her prime competitor.” Again Kellen heard the echo of Mara’s voice, I chose you as my opponent because I thought we were alike, that you were worthy. “She considered us sisters under the skin.”

“You’re not like her.”

“No, but I wish I could get into her head right now.”

“Me, too,” he said with heartfelt sincerity. “It would add much needed sanity to her brain.”

Kellen laughed in a sudden, unexpected (by her) gust. “There is that.”

“Since you can’t read Mara’s mind, what do you think—go or stay?”

The FBI said to stay.

The Coast Guard said to leave.

She looked around the old house. Even with its quirks and its spooks, she loved this place. But Max was right, it had weathered without upkeep. “I think in view of what happened to Dylan and Jamie, and the spooky disappearance of the firearms, and this house and the storm…we’d better go while we can, and trust law enforcement and our own good sense to protect us from Mara, if she’s waiting.”

“Okay. That’s what we’ll do.” Max trusted her judgment without question, and for someone who’d had brain surgery, that meant a lot. “As soon as Rae gets back, we’ll pack up and leave.”

34

“Miranda! Miranda!” Rae skidded down the path toward the south beach, knocking pebbles into the sand, yelling her head off.

Mara looked up, annoyed. She had been counting the number of anemones in the designated tide pool. Now she’d have to start all over again. “What?” she asked sharply.

Rae stood astride the rocks, trying to get her breath. “Dylan Conkle…did something to Jamie. He was covered in blood.”

Mara narrowed her eyes at Rae. Shut the window in my face, will you? “Sounds like Jamie’s problem.”