Relative Strangers Read Online Free Page A

drawn her to the Richmonds when she and Dayle had been kids: warmth, caring, and laughter. The chaos of their home—Dayle had four brothers and two sisters—had been a welcome respite from the silent chill at her own house. The Richmonds had made a fine surrogate family, and Meg sometimes wondered what kind of person she would have become had they not been there for her.
    Dayle said, "I understand your need to make a connection with someone after what happened with your parents. But do you think this hunt for the people who gave you away twenty-eight years ago is the answer? I hope you're not expecting to find an instant family to replace the one that let you down."
    "Hell, I don't know what I'm looking for. An anchor, I guess. A connection of some kind. Distraction maybe. I have to do something besides work and think about how they died before my father and I could resolve our issues."
    "You resolved them as much as possible, Meg. I know it wasn't to your satisfaction, but you did what you could. He wasn't willing to accept your choices, and that's not your fault. You tried to make him understand. He should have been proud of you, and I think he was."
    "Why would he have been?"
    "Why not?" Dayle demanded. "Your life will calm down eventually. Give it time." She blew out a breath. "God, I know how trite that sounds."
    Meg smiled, loving her for being everything she could have asked for in a friend. "Don't worry about it. You're a good listener, and that's exactly what I needed. I'm going to change out of these work clothes before I go pick up the pizza." At Dayle's questioning look, she gave a rueful shrug. "Carry-out's cheaper, and it's a short walk."
    Dayle laughed. "Think you'll be so frugal when that trust fund kicks in?"
    "Like it ever will."
    "Optimism, Meg. I'll introduce you to it sometime."
    In the bedroom, Meg pulled on faded blue jeans, a white tank top, and a black sweatshirt that she left unzipped. She put on her favorite pair of ragged Nikes. On her way to the door, she slipped some money and her keys into a pocket. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll only be a few minutes."
    "Want some company? I'd feel better if we went together," Dayle said. "Considering."
    Meg thought of Mr. Armani. "Okay."
    Joyce LamB * * ★ * *
    The beach was dark. Clouds hung low overhead, muting the scuffing of their shoes as they walked along the water's edge where the sand was packed and easier to navigate.
    "It's so peaceful," Dayle said. "Listen to the waves."
    For thirty nights, the rhythmic beat of the waves had soothed Meg to sleep. The immensity of the Gulf awed her, making her feel vulnerable and content at once. On a bad day, its vastness had a way of snapping life back into perspective. She'd needed that, depended on it.
    Dayle glanced over her shoulder.
    "What is it?" Meg asked.
    "I thought I heard something."
    "Probably tourists." She turned and saw the dark outlines of two men about ten yards behind them. They were casual, unhurried. One of them was smoking, and she heard laughter.
    The scrape of shoes on sand-covered rock drew Meg's gaze to a low cobblestone wall that separated the beach from a vacant lot. Another dark outline, also a man, was less casual, somewhat furtive.
    "What the hell?" Dayle said under her breath.
    "They're tourists," Meg said, but she wasn't as certain as she sounded. In the past month, she had taken many solitary walks along this stretch of beach and had not once felt uneasy. If it had not been for the bizarre encounter at the airport, she wouldn't have thought twice about sharing the beach with strangers tonight.
    "Just keep walking," she said. "The pizza place isn't that far. There'll be people all over."
    A minute later, Meg glanced back. The men were less than twenty feet away. No longer casual. No longer laughing. The one with the cigarette flicked it away, and
    she heard the sizzle when it hit the water.
    Fear made her breathing shallow. She and Dayle were pretty much surrounded, with the Gulf