The Stranger by Harlan Coben Page A

they’d be down and do it when their show was over in five (read: fifteen) minutes. Five (read: fifteen) minutes would pass, and then Corinne would complain to Adam again about how irresponsible the boys were, and he’d shout up to them with a little more anger in his voice.
    The cycles of domesticity.
    “Paper plates are fine,” Adam said.
    The two boys attacked the pizza as if they were rehearsing the finale of
The
Day of the Locust
. Between bites, Ryan looked at his father curiously.
    “What?” Adam said.
    Ryan managed to swallow. “I thought you were just going to Janice’s for dinner.”
    “We are.”
    “So what’s with the getup?”
    “It isn’t a getup.”
    “And what’s the smell?” Thomas added.
    “Are you wearing cologne?”
    “Eeew. It’s ruining the taste of the pizza.”
    “Knock it off,” Adam said.
    “Want to trade a slice of pepperoni for a slice of buffalo chicken?”
    “No.”
    “Come on, just one slice.”
    “Throw in a mozzarella stick.”
    “No way. Half a mozzarella stick.”
    Adam started for the door as the negotiations wore down. “We won’t be late. Get your homework done, and please stick the pizza box in the recycling, okay?”
    He drove past the new hot yoga place on Franklin Avenue—by
hot
he meant temperature of the class, not popularity or looks—and found parking across the street from Janice’s. Five minutes early. He looked for Corinne’s car. No sign of it, but she could be parked in the back lot.
    David, Janice’s son and quasi maître d’, greeted him at the door and brought him to the back table. No Corinne. Well, okay, he was here first. No big deal. Janice came out of the kitchen two minutes later. Adam rose and kissed her on the cheek.
    “Where’s your wine?” Janice asked. Her bistro was BYO. Adam and Corinne always brought a bottle.
    “Forgot.”
    “Maybe Corinne will bring some?”
    “I doubt it.”
    “I can send David to Carlo Russo’s.”
    Carlo Russo’s was the wine store down the street.
    “That’s okay.”
    “It’s no hassle. It’s quiet right now. David?” Janice turned back to Adam. “What are you having tonight?”
    “Probably the veal Milanese.”
    “David, get Adam and Corinne a bottle of the Paraduxx Z blend.”
    David brought back the wine. Corinne still wasn’t there. David opened the bottle and poured two glasses. Corinne still wasn’t there. At seven fifteen, Adam started to get that sinking feeling in his gut. He texted Corinne. No answer. At seven thirty, Janice cameover to him and asked if everything was okay. He assured her that it was, that Corinne was probably just caught up in some parent-teacher conference.
    Adam stared at his phone, willing it to buzz. At 7:45 P.M. , it did.
    It was a text from Corinne:
    MAYBE WE NEED SOME TIME APART. YOU TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS. DON’T TRY TO CONTACT ME. IT WILL BE OKAY.
    Then:
    JUST GIVE ME A FEW DAYS. PLEASE.

Chapter 13
    A dam sent several desperate texts to try to get Corinne to reply. They included: “this isn’t the way to handle this,” “please call me,” “where are you,” “how many days,” “how can you do this to us” —stuff like that. He tried nice, mean, calm, angry.
    But there was no reaction.
    Was Corinne okay?
    He gave Janice some lame excuse about Corinne still being stuck and having to cancel. Janice insisted that he take two veal Milanese home with him. He was going to fight it, but there seemed little point.
    As he pulled onto his street, he still held out hope that Corinne had changed her mind and gone home. It was one thing to be madat him. It was another thing to take it out on the boys. But her car wasn’t in the drive, and the first thing Ryan said to him when he opened the door was “Where’s Mom?”
    “She has some work thing,” Adam said in a voice equally vague and dismissive.
    “I need my home uniform.”
    “So?”
    “So I threw it in the wash. Do you know if Mom did the laundry?”
    “No,” Adam said. “Why don’t