In the rearview mirror, I watched the sun go down. A ball of re engulfed the skyline for a moment as Gunslinger o cially went out of business. e explosion was sudden and ery, sending debris in all directions. Everything that was Grace Evans burned. e blood-soaked clothing, license, credit cards, and anything else that tied me to that identity. Grace Evans was dead. Same with that poor old schmuck. ey both didn’t exist anymore. I wasn’t worried about ngerprints or DNA or anything like that. Avery Adams wasn’t in the system. She was a saint, an upstanding citizen. Grace Evans was here, but Avery Adams had never been to a place like Dubois, Wyoming.
I took my eyes o the rearview mirror and focused on the winding road in front of me. My work here was complete. You might be wondering how or why. Who would do a thing like that? Let me reintroduce myself. My name is Avery Adams. I’m your next-door neighbor. e woman at the café. e girl who jogs in the park every day. Says hello to strangers. Holds the door open. Gives up her seat for the elderly. A volunteer for an animal shelter. I’m the girl at a bar on a Friday night and the woman in church on a Sunday morning. I’m every girl you’ve ever known and every girl you have yet to meet. My name is Avery Adams. I love meeting new people—and I love killing them too.
