The Perfect Stranger (Social Media #2)(29)

“Are you saying Meredith brought this on herself?” she cuts in. So much for lightening things up.

“No. I’m just saying . . . I’m worried. I’ve seen social networkers post way too much personal information.”

“So have I. But I’ve never put down our last name or even our first names, or where we live . . .”

No, but many of the other bloggers—Meredith included—do share all those details. Rather than calling her spouse and children DH, DS, and DD—widely used Internet shorthand for Dear Husband, Darling Son, and Darling Daughter—Meredith referred to her family members by their first names. Hank was her husband; her kids were Neal, Teddy, and Beck, short for Rebecca. She occasionally posted photos, too . . .

Landry feels sick to her stomach remembering that Meredith had proudly posted pictures of her master bedroom last fall, with the new king-sized bed and bedding and curtains she’d just bought on sale at Macy’s.

And then there was a more recent picture accompanied by a caption: View of our home, sweet home from the street with the lilacs in full bloom.

There were plenty of compliments in the comments section from the usual followers: Pretty! . . . Love Lilacs! . . . Ooh, wish it was scratch and sniff!

But how many other pairs of eyes had also seen the photo of the modest house? How many silent lurkers had noticed the dense shrub borders along the property lines, which, as Meredith had cheerfully pointed out to her online friends, offered privacy and shielded her house from the neighbors’ views?

Landry thinks back over her own posts, wondering if she’s inadvertently been just as careless.

“You didn’t write on your blog that I’m going away on a golf outing Father’s Day weekend, did you?” asks Rob the mind-reader.

“Of course not!”

She did, however, mention it to Meredith in a private message exchange just last week. They were going back and forth about how having a husband away can be a mixed blessing—more so, Meredith thought, when you have kids still at home.

It’s kind of lonely when you’re the only one rattling around the house day after day—well, mostly, night after night, Meredith wrote, almost echoing what she’d written in her blog.

Exactly—don’t think I’m a big baby, she wrote back, but sometimes I still get scared at night when Rob’s away!

Now, remembering that exchange, she feels a twinge of guilt. It was only Meredith—but what if it had been someone else? Someone she trusted, but shouldn’t have?

Rob is looking a little guilty himself. “Sorry, I know you wouldn’t write something that personal on the blog. You’re pretty good about keeping things nonspecific.”

“I am. So please don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. Not about myself.”

No. He worries about her.

Until she got sick, she was okay with that—with letting him protect her, take care of her.

But cancer changed that. Made her stronger, more determined to take care of herself, and . . .

More aware that Rob can’t protect her. He can want to, and he can try, but her big strong husband isn’t in charge after all. He—and she, for all those years—only wanted to believe that he was.

Stronger, more independent and self-aware . . .

Sometimes she still bristles when Rob assumes the old role of protector, and she knows it bothers him when she won’t let him.

She changes the subject, asking about his workday, his golf game, and who was at the club tonight. As he tells her, she manages to ask questions in all the right places, and to laugh at quips she knows are meant to make her laugh, though she doesn’t really comprehend a word he’s saying.

This is how it was back when she was sick, going through the motions of ordinary conversation.

Later—much later, long after the kids are home and the house is quiet, Landry lies awake in bed staring into the dark, still preoccupied with Meredith’s death and wondering why Elena never called. She must have gotten home too late.

Uneasily remembering what Rob said, Landry wants to ask her whether she thinks there’s any chance some online predator might have deliberately targeted Meredith.

Are the police also considering that angle?

Probably. They must be going through the blog word for word, looking for clues.

Meredith was really open, sharing information that Landry would never have put out there for just anyone to see.

But that doesn’t mean you haven’t let your guard down, too, from time to time.

Just today she handed out her phone number to a bunch of people she’s never met—and she told Jaycee her first and last name.

But I didn’t broadcast that stuff on the Web, she reminds herself. I just told a couple of friends, privately, over e-mail and the telephone. Nothing wrong with that.

No. But from now on she’ll be extra careful not to provide any identifying details on her own blog. And tomorrow she should go through it and delete anything she wouldn’t want to share with “opportunistic rapists and murderers,” as Rob put it.

Heck—maybe she should just stop blogging altogether.

Maybe it’s too dangerous.

Dangerous? Come on. You’re just being paranoid.

The inner voice, blustering bravado, is the one that popped up often back when she was sick, reminding her never to let fear get the best of her.