The Stranger by Harlan Coben

secrets, don’t we? Even you, Adam.”
    â€œI’ve never kept anything like this from you. But clearly, I have my answer.”
    â€œNo, you don’t.” She moved close to him and looked up into his eyes. “You will soon. I promise.”
    He bit back and said, “When?”
    â€œLet’s meet for dinner tonight. Janice’s Bistro at seven. Back table. We can talk there.”

Chapter 11
    H ummel figurines sat on the top shelf. There was a little girl with a donkey, three children playing follow-the-leader, a little boy with a beer stein, and finally a boy pushing a girl on a swing.
    â€œEunice loves them,” the old man told Adam. “Me, I can’t stand the damn things. They creep me out. I keep thinking someone should make a horror film with them, you know? Like instead of that scary clown or leprechaun. Can you imagine if those things came to life?”
    The kitchen was old wood paneling. A
Viva Las Vegas
magnet was on the fridge. There was a snow globe with three pink flamingos on the ledge above the sink. The mounting read MIAMI, FLA in a florid-script font—“Fla” in case you weren’t sure which Miami,Adam guessed.
The
Wizard of Oz
collectible plates and an owl clock with moving eyes took up the wall on the right. The wall on the left had numerous yet fading police-related certificates and plaques, a retrospective of the long and distinguished career of retired Lieutenant Colonel Michael Rinsky.
    Rinsky noticed Adam reading the certificates and muttered, “Eunice insisted we hang them up.”
    â€œShe’s proud of you,” Adam said.
    â€œYeah, whatever.”
    Adam turned back toward him. “So tell me about the mayor’s visit.”
    â€œMayor Rick Gusherowski. Busted him twice when he was in high school, once for drunk driving.”
    â€œWas he charged?”
    â€œNah, just called his old man to pick him up. This was, what, thirty years ago. We did that more back in those days. Considered drunk driving a minor offense. Stupid.”
    Adam nodded to let him know that he was listening.
    â€œThey’re real strict with the drunk-driving stuff now. Saves lives. But anyway, Rick comes to my door. Mr. Mayor now. Got the suit, with the American flag in the lapel. Don’t join the military; don’t help out the little guy; don’t take in your tired, your poor, your huddled masses—but if you wear a little flag, you’re a patriot.”
    Adam tried not to smile.
    â€œSo Rick comes in with his chest out and this big grin. ‘The developers are offering you a lot of money,’ he says to me. Goes on and on about how generous they’re being.”
    â€œWhat do you say?”
    â€œNothing yet. I just kinda stare at him. Let him bloviate.”
    He signaled to the kitchen table for them to sit. Adam didn’t want to sit in Eunice’s chair—it felt wrong somehow—so he asked, “Which chair?”
    â€œAny’s fine.”
    Adam took one. Then Rinsky sat. The vinyl tablecloth was old and a little sticky and felt just right. There were still five chairs here, though the three boys he and Eunice had raised in this very house were grown and gone.
    â€œThen he starts in on me with the good-of-the-community stuff. ‘You’re standing in the way of progress,’ he tells me. ‘People will lose their jobs because of you. Crime will increase.’ You know the deal.”
    â€œI do, yes,” Adam said.
    Adam had heard it before many times, and he wasn’t unsympathetic. Over the years, this downtown neighborhood had gone to seed. Some developer, getting a ton of tax breaks, had come in and bought up every building on the block on the cheap. He wanted to knock down all the dilapidated homes, apartments, storefronts, and build shiny new condos and Gap stores and tony restaurants. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. You could make fun of the gentrification, but towns