Stella sits in her wheelchair, facing the Pacific, the sunshine kissing her cheeks. Grant’s next to her, holding her hand in his, as his feet rest on a patio chair. They have been unusually quiet, but after the chaos of the past couple weeks, it’s a welcome and enjoyable silence.
Grant can’t believe the chain of events any more than Stella can. Yet in Los Angeles, these sordid stories seem to top the news and the charts, so it’s not surprising they’ve already been approached about turning their life story into a screenplay.
It’s going to take some distance, and years, they decide, before they can even contemplate the idea of using their personal tragedy for financial gain.
After Grant was arrested and hauled off to the county jail to await a bail hearing, Stella was poisoned again after unplugging the machine wasn’t a viable option, this time with a stronger sedative than her sleeping pills.
Adam and Lucy Wagoner, a divorced and rekindled team of murderers.
Fortunately for Stella and Grant, the hospital room was bugged. The police were positive that Grant had something to do with Stella’s attempted murder, they just didn’t know in what capacity. Lucky for them, they hadn’t turned off the recording device after Grant got arrested, and when a nurse walked in after Lucy and Adam left, she was suspicious. She might’ve thought Stella was just resting, but her pulse had slowed immensely and she was on the verge of cardiac arrest. Neither had checked in as visitors, but their discussion was recorded on tape and the police were able to get a confession out of them.
Jealousy. Sex. Rage.
And of course, revenge.
Lucy had never forgiven Stella for stealing her husband. Or in her mind, her first love, Grant.
And though Adam and Lucy had split, they had reconciled, and both had a personal vendetta against Stella and Grant. Adam hated Grant for no good reason, except that he used to sleep with his wife before he met her and that he was married to Stella, who he once couldn’t imagine life without. Lucy hated Stella for the obvious reasons, but despised Grant because he stayed with Stella when he found out about her affair instead of dumping her.
Lucy had always played second to Stella McKinney.
Stella remembers back to the night she first met Grant, when Lucy tugged her away and pulled her into the bathroom.
Lucy hisses, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Did I miss something?”
“That’s him.”
“Who?”
Dropping her arm, Lucy spits out, “The one Tom and my sister set me up with.”
“The bad dresser?” Stella moans. “That’s the one you went out with last week?”
“Yeah, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “The one who I had no chemistry with and couldn't find anything in common.”
“Didn't you go out two or three times?”
“Yeah, I didn't want to hurt his feelings or piss off Tom. Supposedly Grant doesn’t get out much, or so Lisa says.” Lucy touches her cheek. “Though if he kisses as bad as he did that night, I can see why.”
Stella squeals, “Did you sleep with him?”
“No, no, of course not. If he can’t kiss, he certainly can't manage the other parts of my body,” Lucy gives her a mischievous smile, “if you catch my drift.”
Stella rubs her sore arm, waiting for Lucy to finish her tirade. “Plus, he's boring.”
Her eyes drift out the window where Grant’s immersed in a conversation with Tom, his brown eyes darting around the yard, as if he’s looking for someone, or waiting for something to happen. She stares for a moment, watching how he runs his hand through his long locks when he’s asked a question, the way he taps his foot against the outdoor patio furniture, almost forgetting it’s there.
Then he moves to grab an hors d’oeuvres and almost trips over his untied laces.
Endearing, she thinks, that’s it. That’s who Grant was then, and that’s who he is now.
Lucy had made it seem like Grant had concocted the entire plan and was the mastermind, even creating a dummy email so she could communicate with Emily, the wannabe actress from Kansas who had some impressive headshots and nothing else but a dream.
The ad was touted as an ‘acting job for a superb actress.’
And everything would’ve worked out if Emily had followed the plan straight through. There would’ve been no reason to get Lucy involved, and Emily would have been the only one in physical contact with Stella that night. After Stella had gone into a permanent stupor, Emily was instructed to throw Stella’s phone in the ocean. The sleeping pills and note would’ve sufficed along with the call to the suicide hotline.
And who would suspect anything different?
No one.
Stella had a history, and she was alone, and lonely, and it was the perfect crime.
Except it wasn’t.
Everything went awry, and mistakes were made.
Lucy had promised to check on Stella for Grant, knowing full well she was meant to be dead at the time. She knew if Grant thought Stella was being watched, it would buy her more time. Grant told her when Dr. Sabin was coming, and she figured Stella would be dead for a full three days before Grant even returned home.
Emily had freaked out after Stella fell unconscious and called Grant, so Lucy had gone back to the house, where she shot Emily. She figured it would look like Stella had killed her before taking her own life.
“I’m sorry…” Stella murmurs, her hands trembling in Grant’s grasp. She’s still not able to walk yet, her motor skills impacted by the amount of drugs that entered her system. Attending physical rehabilitation, she’s getting stronger each week, but she’s got some progress to make.
“I know, Stel.”
“If I … if I hadn’t done what I did…”
“You don’t need to dredge up the past,” Grant says softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know you made a mistake. I made a mistake in letting our marriage slide once upon a time.”
She nods, her heart heavy. Guilt embraces her on a daily basis, but she’s working through that with Dr. Sabin. Stella wonders frequently what path their lives would’ve taken had the affair not happened.
Would everything be status quo? Would Adam and Lucy still be married? Would Grant still be buried in his job?
There’s no way to know.
Grant notices her peaked complexion, and he reaches forward to brush some strands of windblown hair off her face.
“I love you, Stella,” Grant caresses her cheek, “in sickness and in health.”
She tugs his hand, and they watch the sun set over the water, knowing that they were the center of a perfect storm.
About the Author
www.marinmontgomery.com
The Perfect Stranger Page 23