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Back Strangers She Knows Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Praise
  4. Booklist
  5. Dedication
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. BPA
  61. Author Bio

“You don’t imagine you can leave?” Miranda grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip and spun him around—onto the point of the arterial tube she’d stolen from his embalming set. A moment of resistance, then the six-inch-long needle pierced the skin and sank between his ribs in a long, upward motion. He had one moment of stupid hope: that she had grabbed a clean and unused arterial tube.

Then he realized it didn’t matter. He knew anatomy as well as any physician; either through skill or blind luck, she had penetrated his heart.

He looked into her avid blue eyes.

Skill.

In his ears, he could hear each beat of his heart, and with each beat, he knew the powerful muscle contracted, pushing blood into his chest cavity.

Beat.

He writhed. He fell.

Beat.

Miranda Nyugen picked up the gruesome souvenir on the step.

Beat.

She placed it lovingly into her backpack.

Beat.

She leaned into the coffin, extracted something, dropped it into her backpack.

Beat.

She used one of the brass candlesticks to shatter one of their prized stained glass windows. Dark rushed in, misting his eyes with night.

She dragged a chair over, got ready to climb out.

Someone screamed. Cynthia screamed.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

Miranda turned back, and all he could see was the porcelain gleam of her teeth as she smiled that terrible smile.

No, Cynthia. Run away!

He waited for the next beat.

It never came.

He never knew it. Not in this world.

2

If there’s one thing that’s worse than not waking up after brain surgery, it’s waking up after brain surgery. No matter how brilliant the surgeon, having someone poke around in your brain results in bruising and swelling and disconnected nerves.

For the surgeon, success equates a patient who comes to consciousness and is not in a vegetative state.

For the bruised and swollen brain patient, success equates sitting up and not falling over, learning to hold a spoon and use it (FYI, sticking it in your eye hurts), and being able to complete a sentence without forgetting half the words. Let’s not even talk about potty training for adults.

Oh! And may I say, the medical staff gets agitated when a person (me) gets confused about her first name.

My husband, Max, told them not to worry.