The Stranger

Chapter 49

Johanna Griffin was a natural rule follower, so she didn’t turn off the airplane mode on her smartphone until they’d stopped moving on the active runway. The flight attendant made the standard “welcome to Newark where the temperature is” announcement as Johanna’s texts and e-mails loaded up.

Nothing from Adam Price.

The past twenty-four hours had been exhausting. Kimberly had been hysterical. Extracting her horrible story had been painstaking and time-consuming. Johanna had tried to be understanding, but what on God’s green earth had that kid been thinking? Poor Heidi. How had she reacted to the news about her daughter and that horrible website? Johanna thought back to that videotape of Heidi in the Red Lobster parking lot. Heidi’s body language made complete sense now. In a way, Johanna had been watching an assault on that tape. That guy, that goddamn stranger, was pummeling her friend with his words, breaking her heart with his revelations.

Did he comprehend the damage he was wreaking?

So Heidi had gone home after that. She had called Kimberly and gotten her daughter to tell the truth. She had stayed rational and calm, even as she withered away inside. Or maybe Heidi hadn’t withered away. Maybe, because Heidi was the least judgmental person Johanna had ever known, she had dealt with the bad news and was ready to fight back. Who knew? Heidi had comforted her daughter. She had then tried to figure a way of removing her from the terrible mess she had gotten herself into.

And maybe that had gotten her killed.

Johanna still didn’t know what had happened to Heidi, but clearly it was somehow connected to the revelation that her daughter had become a whore-forget the more marketable terms like sugar baby-for three different men. Johanna had started to dig into it, but that would take time. Kimberly didn’t know the men’s real names, which was another wow, but hey, there was a reason they were called johns. Johanna had spoken to the president of the sugar babies website, listened to her rationalizations, and wanted to take a long, hot shower after she hung up. She-yes, in a nice feminist touch, the site was run by a woman-defended her company’s “business arrangements” and her clients’ “right to privacy” and said there was no way she would reveal any information without a court order.

Since the company was located in Massachusetts, that would take time.

Then, after dealing with this crap, the annoyed county homicide cops wanted a full debriefing on Johanna’s renegade trip to New Jersey. This wasn’t about ego for her. She wanted the bastard who killed her friend caught. Period. So she told them everything, including what Kimberly had just told her, and now those guys were getting the court order and putting manpower toward figuring out who the stranger was and what his connection to the murders might be.

All of that was good. But it didn’t mean Johanna was taking herself off the case.

Her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was 216, which meant the call was from someone close to home. She picked up and said hello.

“This is Darrow Fontera.”

“Who?”

“I’m the head of security for Red Lobster. We met when you asked for surveillance footage.”

“Yes, right. What can I do for you?”

“I had asked you to return the DVD when you were done.”

Was this guy for real? Johanna opened her mouth to tell him to go pound sand, but then she thought better of it. “We aren’t done with the investigation yet.”

“Could you please make a copy, then, and return the original DVD to us?”

“What’s the big deal?”

“That’s protocol.” The tone was pure bureaucrat. “We provide one DVD copy only. If others are needed-”

“I only took one copy.”

“No, no, you were the second.”

“Pardon?”

“The other police officer got a copy before you.”

“Wait, what other police officer?”

“We took a scan of his ID. He’d retired from New York, but he said… oh, wait, here it is. His name is Kuntz. John Kuntz.”