The Perfect Stranger (Social Media #2)(73)

“But it’s been a week since . . .” Kay again, hesitating. “I mean, don’t you think he’s long gone by now? Why would he show up at the funeral today?”

“Maybe it’s not someone online. Maybe it was some local thug, and for all we know, they already have a suspect.” Landry again.

Elena gives a short laugh. “I didn’t see anyone there who looked like a thug, did you?”

“Sometimes thugs don’t look particularly thuggish.”

“True. But even if it was an unthuggish thug—and someone local who knew her—he still could have been reading her blog.”

“I know. I bet that detective has been combing through every word Meredith ever wrote, and everything anyone ever wrote to her.”

“I’ve been doing the same thing,” Kay tells Landry. “I keep looking back over her old posts, trying to see if there’s any clue that she might have run into some kind of trouble, or . . . you know, if she made someone angry.”

“Meredith was pretty outspoken. She made plenty of people angry,” Elena points out. “But angry enough to track her down and hurt her? I don’t think so. I really think it had to be some random person who was just plain crazy.”

“All I know,” Landry says, “is that the world already feels emptier without her in it.”

Jaycee listens to them chatter on, moving back to the topic of what Elena should do about Tony.

“I don’t even want to turn my phone on again,” she says. “I’m afraid I’ll have more hang-up calls from him.”

“Just keep it turned off, then,” Kay advises, but Landry has the opposite advice.

“I think you should deal with it now, or you’ll be dwelling on it all weekend—and so will he. If he’s truly obsessed, he might . . . I don’t know . . .”

“Snap and kill me?” Elena asks, then groans. “I’m so sorry. I forgot, for a second, about Meredith. I was kidding.”

“We know you were,” Landry tells her. “It’s okay.”

“Let me see if he’s called again.”

Jaycee hears a rustling behind her. After a few moments Elena says, “Two more hang-ups just since we’ve been sitting here, and a third call with a message.”

“Listen to it.”

“Okay. You know, I hate myself for wasting all this time and energy on him. And I hate him for making me . . .” Another long pause. “Oh, God. You have to hear this message. I’ll put it on speaker, here, listen.”

Despite the coffeehouse background buzz, the call is clearly audible to Jaycee.

“Babe, it’s Tony. Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you calling me back? I told you I just want to talk to you. Are you ignoring me, or did something happen to you? Call me as soon as you get this. I mean it.”

Everything about the call—the harsh words, the menacing tone—sends chills down Jaycee’s back.

Where the hell are you . . . ?

How many times has she heard it before? Sickened, it’s all she can do to stay seated, back turned to the three of them, pretending to sip from a cup that’s long since been empty.

“Why is he calling you ‘Babe,’ as if he’s your boyfriend or something?” Landry asks.

“Because he’s creepy and crazy and he probably thinks he is. He’s delusional.”

“Delusional?” That’s Kay, worried.

“Definitely. That’s what my friend Sidney is always saying, and I’m starting to think she’s right.”

“Well, I definitely think he sounds like a jerk,” Landry says. “If I were you, I’d call him back and tell him off. Maybe that’s what he needs to hear.”

“Maybe. But I don’t feel like dealing with him. Maybe I’ll just call the cops instead.”

“Seriously?”

“No. I guess I can always block his number from getting through to my phone. There’s a way to do that. I really don’t need this kind of stress in my life. It’s dangerous, like Meredith was always saying, remember?”

“What?” Landry sounds shocked. “Meredith talked about being stalked by someone crazy and delusional?”

“No! God, no! I meant stress!” Elena says. “She blogged a few times about those studies showing that breast cancer patients who have daily stress have much shorter survival times.”

“Oh—I misunderstood.”

“Geez, Landry, a few minutes ago we were talking about Meredith’s murder. Do you really think I wouldn’t have brought it up then if I knew she had a crazy stalker?”

Elena’s tone is sharp, Jaycee notices. She seems to have a quick temper. Or maybe she’s just aggravated by the situation, and who—having overheard that phone message from crazy Tony—can blame her?

Landry—good for her—changes the subject, announcing that it’s getting late. They decide they should get back to the hotel. From the sounds of it, the detective is meeting them there.

Behind Jaycee, chairs scrape. She takes another pretend-sip, distracting herself from panic with the amusing notion that if the cup weren’t empty, she’d have downed a gallon of coffee by now. She focuses on her phone, thumb-scrolling through her in-box as if she’s absolutely absorbed by her e-mail.