The Stranger by Harlan Coben Read Free Book Online

‘She said no, boy.’ What kind of attitude is that? No discussion, no hearing him out—just no. So then he gently suggests Denver or even L.A. Same response. No, no, no. I mean, spread your wings, sister. Live a little.”
    Gribbel smiled. “You’re nuts, man.”
    â€œAnd,” Adam continued, feeling the rant rising up, “then she claims that in these massive cities—Boston, Denver, Los Angeles—that there ain’t nobody like her. Full of yourself much?”
    â€œAdam?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou may be overthinking it, my brother.”
    Adam nodded. “True.”
    â€œYou overthink a lot of stuff, Adam.”
    â€œThat I do.”
    â€œIt’s why you’re the best attorney I know.”
    â€œThanks,” Adam said. “And no, you can’t leave work early for your gig.”
    â€œAw, come on. Don’t be that guy.”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œAdam?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe guy in that song. The rambling boy who asks her to come to Boston?”
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œYou got to be fair to the girl.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œHe tells his girl that she could sell her paintings on the sidewalk, outside the café where he hopes to be working soon.” Gribbel spread his hands. “I mean, what kind of financial planning is that?”
    â€œTouché,” Adam said with a small smile. “Sounds like maybe they should just break up.”
    â€œNah. They got a good thing. You can hear it in his voice.”
    Adam shrugged and headed into his office. The rant had been a welcome distraction. Now he was back in his own head again. Bad place to be. He made some calls, had two client meetings, checked in with the paralegals, made sure the right briefs had been followed. The world moves on, which is an outrage. Adam had learned that when he was fourteen years old and his father died of a sudden heart attack. He had sat in the big black car next to his mom and stared out the window and watched everyone else in the world living their lives. Kids still went to school. Parents still wentto work. Cars honked their horns. The sun still shone. His dad was gone. And nothing changed.
    Today he was being reminded yet again of the obvious: The world doesn’t give even the slightest damn about us or our petty problems. We never quite get that, do we? Our lives have been shattered—shouldn’t the rest of us take notice? But no. To the outside world, Adam looked the same, acted the same, felt the same. We get mad at someone for cutting us off in traffic or for taking too long to order at Starbucks or for not responding exactly as we see fit, and we have no idea that behind their facade, they may be dealing with some industrial-strength shit. Their lives may be in pieces. They may be in the midst of incalculable tragedy and turmoil, and they may be hanging on to their sanity by a thread.
    But we don’t care. We don’t see. We just keep pushing.
    He flipped radio stations on the way home, finally settling on mindless arguments on sports radio. The world was divisive and always fighting, so it was nice when people fought over something as meaningless as professional basketball.
    When he reached his street, Adam was a little surprised to see Corinne’s Honda Odyssey in the driveway. The car dealer had called the color Dark Cherry Pearl with a straight face. On the back cargo door, there was an oval magnetic decal with the name of their town written in black, a seemingly perquisite automotive tribal tattoo in suburbia nowadays. There was also a round sticker with crossed lacrosse sticks that read PANTHER LACROSSE , the town’s mascot, and one with a giant green
W
for Willard Middle School, Ryan’s.
    Corinne had gotten home from Atlantic City earlier than expected.
    That threw off his timing a bit. He had rehearsed the upcoming confrontation in his head nonstop all day. It had been on a loop