Free Nowhere Safe by Nancy Bush

more than she suspected.
    She set down the spoon. “There’s no real battle. Well, there is. I just find people that need to be . . . neutralized . . . and then I neutralize them.”
    â€œThe police used the term ‘neutralize’ when they killed the gunman who opened fire at Clackamas Town Center.” He looked at her over his own soup spoon as he ladled the broth into his mouth.
    â€œI’m on the front lines of a war that will never really end,” she said, stepping carefully. “I’m just trying to keep ahead of the enemy.”
    â€œSounds like an arms race.” He put his spoon down and picked up his knife, deliberately buttering a thick slice of bread.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou’re at war, but your enemy is evolving.”
    â€œDo you know what I do?” she asked.
    He stared past her and out the window. “There’s a particular type of newt that lives in this area. The Pacific newt. I’ve seen them in the back.” He pointed to the garden outside the window, a garden shaded by the thick stand of Douglas firs that surrounded the property and led back into acres and acres of woods owned by the forest service. “Their skin is poisonous—highly poisonous. So if you pick one up you need to wash your hands. If ingested, the poison will kill most animals. It’s highly toxic.”
    Lucky waited. Sometimes Mr. Blue went on about things that seemed to have no rhyme or reason, yet inside was buried sage advice.
    â€œDo you know what a garter snake is?” he asked.
    â€œJust a harmless, everyday snake?”
    He nodded. “It’s not poisonous, apart from a venomous quality to its saliva that may help with digestion as it eats its prey live. The garter snake is a predator of the newt and has developed a resistance to the newt’s poison. So, over time, as a natural defense mechanism, the poison in the newts increases, becoming the new normal, as they say, and then the garter snakes die off until they develop a stronger resistance and can once again eat the newts with impunity until the newts’ poison becomes more toxic. It’s an arms race. I believe the garter snakes are currently on top.” His gaze returned to hers. “Are you?”
    â€œI’m not really in an arms race,” Lucky protested.
    â€œYou might be and just don’t know it. Be careful.”
    There was something about this conversation—a long one for him—that seemed to be telling her something. Should she tell him something? A little bit about her plans? Was this what he was asking?
    â€œI don’t intend for them to win,” she said, purposely keeping her meaning vague.
    â€œYou can’t often predict the outcome of an arms race.”
    Her heart beat heavily, almost hurting. She was rarely so honest with anyone. “I don’t think I have much time.”
    He returned his attention to his soup, but she thought she sensed a sadness in him. “Is it enough to get done what you need to do?”
    She thought of the sensation, the almost odor, at the school. After she took care of Harmak, once and for all, she intended on tracking the source of that feeling. Maybe he would be her last. “I hope so.”
    â€œIf you need anything, just ask.”
    â€œI will.”
    She helped clean up the remains of the meal, then headed to her room. She needed to take care of Stefan Harmak soon. She should have given him enough to kill him, but she’d pulled back. The thought of those schoolchildren finding his dead body had influenced her. Now, she was going to have to catch him somewhere else, and the problem was, she’d put him on alert. Maybe she was in an arms race.
    She shook her head, angry at herself, and gazed at her reflection in the old fly-spotted mirror above the ancient bureau. Once she was through with Harmak, she would figure out who was responsible for the noxious aura left behind at Twin Oaks, an