Read Online The Perfect Stranger by Wendy Corsi Staub - Free Book Online
Authors: Wendy Corsi Staub
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was well-planned in advance.
Okay—not that far in advance.
The spark of an idea ignited a while back, but opportunity to act on it didn’t present itself until about ten days ago, Memorial Day weekend, when a senile ninety-three-year-old woman happened to take a nasty fall in Cleveland.
It was Meredith herself who set things in motion by blogging about how her husband had gone up to his hometown to take care of his aging mother. The whole world now knew she was alone in the house every night for the foreseeable future.
Maybe not the whole world—but anyone who happened to stumble across her blog online.
You didn’t have to be a seasoned detective to figure out where she lived. Anyone could piece together the personal details she’d posted in her official bio and scattered throughout her blog archives.
It’s not inconceivable that someone—some stranger—might have done just that. Not inconceivable that the evil predator might have slipped into the house in the dead of night with nothing more than robbery on his mind.
The house, after all, was found ransacked.
Some valuables were missing.
One thing was left behind—for good luck.
But no one is going to notice that, in the grand scheme of things.
And Meredith—Meredith’s body was left crumpled on the floor, as if she’d gotten up to investigate a noise and surprised a prowler.
Right. It all makes perfect sense. The police are looking for a prowler, a predator, a stranger . . .
Not for you.
No one would ever in a million years guess that it was you. All you have to do is be smart and stay quiet—but not too quiet—until the whole thing blows over.
Strength Training
Battling cancer demands a certain level of fortitude. Not just physical stamina to endure symptoms and treatments, but inner strength to handle the shit storm of emotions that come your way. Getting a cancer diagnosis is like being asked to go, overnight, from couch potato to the Olympics. No, not asked—told. Because really, what choice do you have?
Your only option—unless you have a freaking death wish—is to fight. And fighting takes strength. Physical strength, yes—and you supposedly build that by taking vitamins, getting plenty of rest, exercising, and eating that crap otherwise known as health food. But emotional strength is just as important. How do you build that? Through daily challenges that include not just fighting back tears, but also counting your blessings, living in the moment, taking small setbacks in stride . . .
—Excerpt from Elena’s blog, The Boobless Wonder
Chapter 4
Landry’s cell phone rings as she again paces the length of the master bedroom with it in her hand.
It’s about time.
Over an hour has passed since she e-mailed her number, along with a link to the Cincinnati newspaper article— LOCAL WOMAN MURD ERED IN APPARENT HOM E INVASION —to the three remaining online friends with whom she communicates most regularly: Elena, Jaycee, and A-Okay.
She also tried to call A-Okay at the number she’d provided earlier, but there was no answer; it went right into an automated voice-mail recording. She hung up without leaving a message. Now, looking at the caller ID to see which of the bloggers is calling back, she sees a 310 area code. That, she knows, is Los Angeles.
Guess it’s not one of my online friends after all.
“Hello?”
A vaguely familiar voice says, “Hi. I’m looking for . . . BamaBelle? Is this you?”
“It’s me. Who is this?”
“It’s Jaycee. You know— PC BC. Hi.”
“Oh! Hi. I’m—I guess I should tell you my name. It’s Landry.”
“Landry? First, or last?”
“First. It’s Landry Wells.”
“That’s pretty. And unusual.”
She quickly explains that Landry was her mother’s maiden name; that last names as first are a southern tradition.
“I love that,” Jaycee tells her. “Did you follow it when you had your own kids?”
“Well, my own maiden name is Quackenbush, so
Okay—not that far in advance.
The spark of an idea ignited a while back, but opportunity to act on it didn’t present itself until about ten days ago, Memorial Day weekend, when a senile ninety-three-year-old woman happened to take a nasty fall in Cleveland.
It was Meredith herself who set things in motion by blogging about how her husband had gone up to his hometown to take care of his aging mother. The whole world now knew she was alone in the house every night for the foreseeable future.
Maybe not the whole world—but anyone who happened to stumble across her blog online.
You didn’t have to be a seasoned detective to figure out where she lived. Anyone could piece together the personal details she’d posted in her official bio and scattered throughout her blog archives.
It’s not inconceivable that someone—some stranger—might have done just that. Not inconceivable that the evil predator might have slipped into the house in the dead of night with nothing more than robbery on his mind.
The house, after all, was found ransacked.
Some valuables were missing.
One thing was left behind—for good luck.
But no one is going to notice that, in the grand scheme of things.
And Meredith—Meredith’s body was left crumpled on the floor, as if she’d gotten up to investigate a noise and surprised a prowler.
Right. It all makes perfect sense. The police are looking for a prowler, a predator, a stranger . . .
Not for you.
No one would ever in a million years guess that it was you. All you have to do is be smart and stay quiet—but not too quiet—until the whole thing blows over.
Strength Training
Battling cancer demands a certain level of fortitude. Not just physical stamina to endure symptoms and treatments, but inner strength to handle the shit storm of emotions that come your way. Getting a cancer diagnosis is like being asked to go, overnight, from couch potato to the Olympics. No, not asked—told. Because really, what choice do you have?
Your only option—unless you have a freaking death wish—is to fight. And fighting takes strength. Physical strength, yes—and you supposedly build that by taking vitamins, getting plenty of rest, exercising, and eating that crap otherwise known as health food. But emotional strength is just as important. How do you build that? Through daily challenges that include not just fighting back tears, but also counting your blessings, living in the moment, taking small setbacks in stride . . .
—Excerpt from Elena’s blog, The Boobless Wonder
Chapter 4
Landry’s cell phone rings as she again paces the length of the master bedroom with it in her hand.
It’s about time.
Over an hour has passed since she e-mailed her number, along with a link to the Cincinnati newspaper article— LOCAL WOMAN MURD ERED IN APPARENT HOM E INVASION —to the three remaining online friends with whom she communicates most regularly: Elena, Jaycee, and A-Okay.
She also tried to call A-Okay at the number she’d provided earlier, but there was no answer; it went right into an automated voice-mail recording. She hung up without leaving a message. Now, looking at the caller ID to see which of the bloggers is calling back, she sees a 310 area code. That, she knows, is Los Angeles.
Guess it’s not one of my online friends after all.
“Hello?”
A vaguely familiar voice says, “Hi. I’m looking for . . . BamaBelle? Is this you?”
“It’s me. Who is this?”
“It’s Jaycee. You know— PC BC. Hi.”
“Oh! Hi. I’m—I guess I should tell you my name. It’s Landry.”
“Landry? First, or last?”
“First. It’s Landry Wells.”
“That’s pretty. And unusual.”
She quickly explains that Landry was her mother’s maiden name; that last names as first are a southern tradition.
“I love that,” Jaycee tells her. “Did you follow it when you had your own kids?”
“Well, my own maiden name is Quackenbush, so
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