Read Online A Stranger Like You by Elizabeth Brundage - Free Book Online Page A

how small he was in the scope of things. There were people out there who controlled things—things like lights and traffic. He was just a small part of the great epic drama called humanity, he thought.
    The lot seemed eerily quiet. There didn’t seem to be any planes taking off. No people around either. It was the weekend; you’d think it would be crowded, but it wasn’t crowded at all. He had decided that, this time, he was going to save her. He was going to open the trunk and get her out. But as he drove around the lot again, retracing his steps, it occurred to him that the car wasn’t there. He drove around a second time. There was no mistake. The car had moved. It was gone.
    Perhaps she had actually gotten out, he thought. Perhaps, by some stroke of incredible luck, she’d freed her hands and pulled the tape off her mouth. Perhaps someone had heard her cries and been determined to save her. It had been one of her complaints with the scene—the woman screaming in a crowded parking lot without being saved—she’d said she didn’t buy it, but now that her mouth was taped there would be no crying for help. There would be no chance of anyone hearing her. And the car would be stolen by some unassuming thief. Problem solved, he thought. With a few simple modifications, he had addressed her complaints. He had to admit, she’d been right; the scene was far more convincing now.
    Still, strange things happened. Everyday miracles like the ones in those supermarket newspapers.
    This time he got a woman at the gate. More interested in her cell phone conversation than in his strangely brief visit to the long-term parking lot, she let him through without even looking at him. Hugh drove back to Los Feliz, foolishly challenging the speed limits, and turned onto Lomita Avenue. The street was quiet, lit with the old gas lamps. He parked at the curb across the street from her house. To his surprise, a light burned in the tall arched window. Was it possible ? His heart began to beat—perhaps it was true—he felt almost giddy with relief. She had survived his cruel joke—that’s what it had been—a joke—no real harm intended! The gun hadn’t even been loaded! He had only wanted to teach her a lesson. And she’d been victorious after all—miraculously, someone had heard her cries and freed her—kind soul!
    And yet, as he crossed the street and approached the house, he grew increasingly uncertain. He saw a man inside her living room, his shadow looming monstrously on the wall. It was Chase’s boyfriend—the filmmaker—pacing and shouting into a cell phone. Hugh dropped back into the shadows and walked down the driveway, hearing a rattling salsa in the house next door. Through a gap in the curtains he could see the neighbor dancing with one of his lady friends in his undershorts, the woman in her bra and panties.
    The boyfriend’s jeep was parked in the garage. Chase’s car was nowhere in sight.
    Hugh deliberated his options. It was possible that she was there—that perhaps the car had been left somewhere. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to drive, he thought. He pictured her tucked into bed, recovering from her ordeal, a cup of tea at her side. The boyfriend on the phone with the police. And yet her bedroom was dark. It seemed unlikely that she was there.
    “Who is it?” the man said from behind the door.
    “I must have the wrong address,” Hugh said.
    The door opened and the boyfriend stood there, taller than Hugh had anticipated, and bigger, but he did not really look like a fighter, his eyes were too kind. “Who do you want?”
    “I’m looking for Hedda Chase.”
    The man just stood there.
    “I know it’s late. Forgive me, is this—” Hugh took an old receipt out of his pocket and glanced at it. “Thirty-one Lomita?”
    “You got the right address.” The man had a slight Southern accent. “And you’re right, it’s late. Very late, in fact. What do you want?”
    “She told me to stop by