Lying With Strangers Read Online Free PDF Page A

seemed better on this side, the right eye less obscured by the blood. The door opened, but no water rushed in. The car was only half submerged, she realized, the rear end clinging to the snowy shoreline. Still, the water had risen above her waist. All sensation in her feet was gone. She felt as though she were floating, as though the vehicle no longer had a grip on her.
    With a sudden jerk the foot dislodged. She exploded from the seat, her whole body sailing across the front seat and out the open passenger door. She was moving, being carried, she knew, but she was limp in his arms. She felt the wind and snow on her face, but the sense of movement ceased. She lay on her back in a blanket of fresh snow. In the darkness she could discern the image of the man standing over her. Her vision was nearly gone. She strained to listen, as she sensed he would naturally say something. She could hear the wind rushing beneath the bridge behind her. But he said nothing, at least nothing she heard. He simply removed his coat and covered her with it. And then he walked away.
    Peyton propped herself up on one elbow, watching. She called to him, begged him, Don’t go! Please, come back! But he kept walking, never looking back.
    She leaned back, nearly fell into the snowbank. It was red, she noticed, where the white snow had conformed to the shape of her head. The sight of her own blood didn’t faze her. Her own injuries were of secondary concern. She stared into the night sky, into the swirling snow, and one fear consumed her.
    “Jamie,” she said weakly, then gave in to the darkness.

4
    KEVIN STOKES WOKE AT 4:17 A.M. AND PEERED ACROSS THE HOTEL room . His eyes adjusted to the darkness to reveal the evidence before him. An assortment of empty liquor bottles stood on the nightstand, all from the minibar. His clothes lay beside the bed in a heap, right beside hers, right where they had hastily undressed one another some six hours ago. He prayed to God that he was dreaming, but he knew that he wasn’t. Too many regrets for one dream.
    Sandra had insisted on keeping the bedroom cool—“frisky,” she called it—but he was warm now beneath the fluffy down comforter, beside the slender naked body beside him. She slept on her left side, her back to him. His arm was pinned beneath the curve of her waist, and his fingers tingled with a thousand needles from the cutoff circulation. Gently, so as not to wake her, he slid his hand out from under her, his nearly numb fingers gliding across the firmness of her bottom. The contrast was remarkable, such soft skin in such a hard place. Hot, quite literally. It wasn’t the kind of body he’d expected to find beneath those boring gray lawyer suits she wore to the office. Nothing last night had been what he’d expected. Now that he was sober, one thought consumed him.
    I gotta get out of here.
    He pulled his hand free. Her elbow jerked like a catapult and caught him in the chin. His head snapped back and slammed against the headboard.
    “Ow, shit!”
    Suddenly awake, she was half-sitting up, propped up on that wicked elbow. “What’s wrong?” she asked with alarm.
    The confused look told him she wasn’t even aware she’d whacked him. He stretched his jaw, popping it back into place. “You sleep like a Navy SEAL on the ready.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
    She shook her head as if he were insane, but she was too drowsy to debate it. Her cheek sank deep into the pillow as she almost instantly returned to sleep.
    Kevin sat up against the headboard, eyes wide open. Cold air poured in from the window. It was open just a crack, enough to cool down the room the way Sandra liked it. But it was too cold. The weather had been horrendous all day, and from the sounds of the wind whistling outside, it must have only gotten worse.
    I hate Boston.
    He suddenly remembered that he wasn’t in Boston. He was in Providence, Rhode Island, but to Kevin it was all the same