Save Me from Dangerous Men (Nikki Griffin #1)(43)

“Because you need help.”

“You’re actually going to help me? That’s what you’re saying?” Her voice was a mixture of defiance and its opposite quality. “You’re going to save me from these dangerous men?”

I finished off the last of my coffee. “If you want me to try to help you, Karen, you tell me what you’re wrapped up in. And if you don’t want my help, I’m out of town in the next five minutes. Either way, I’m done following you. You want me to leave you alone, say the word.”

She was quiet. I had nothing else to do so I counted to myself. Almost a full minute went by before she spoke. “I’m staying at the Narwhal Cottages.” She pulled a wallet out of her purse and opened it. I saw her California driver’s license in a translucent plastic sleeve next to tiers of colorful plastic cards. She pulled aside a red Bank of America card and a yellow Hertz card and a blue Visa and then found what she was looking for, handing me a business card bearing the silhouette of a whale. A little horn extended from its forehead.

“Meet me there at ten o’clock tonight.”

“Who’s going to die?” I asked again. “What did you mean when you said that?”

She seemed to ignore the question. “The whole company is focused on one thing right now. If you want to know what’s going on, you have to understand that.”

“What one thing?”

She raised her mug and then put it down again. It was empty except for a pale wedge of tea-stained lemon at the bottom. “Care4 has almost arrived at a milestone they’ve spent years trying to reach. They’ve staked the company’s whole future on this—and they’re almost there. They’re doing final internal troubleshooting as we speak. It’s set to go live on November first.”

“November first? That’s barely over two weeks away.”

“Exactly.” Her eyes turned from the empty mug to me. “Once that happens, all of this will be too late to stop.”

“Stop? What do you mean, stop? Who will it be too late for?”

Momentarily quiet, she appeared to make a decision, and then her words came in a rush. “It will be too late for the people who are—”

There was a sudden shattering sound.

Our heads jerked around to the noise and Karen half sprung out of her chair. A waiter had dropped a plate that had broken against the porch. The loud noise seemed to have jarred Karen away from her thoughts, away from what she had been about to say. Her face closed off, regained its wariness. “No more now,” she said. “I’ll explain everything tonight.”

“Why not now?”

She had been so close. On the verge of telling me. And if what she said was true, that left almost no time to act. The sooner I learned what Karen Li knew, the better.

She looked cautiously around as the waiter used a dustpan to sweep up the ceramic fragments. “I don’t even like being outside like this, talking to you. We shouldn’t even be here. It’s too risky, too easy to be heard. They had you follow me—how do I know there aren’t others, too?”

I looked at her with sympathy. There were small lines of worry and tension in her face and her hands were unsteady. I wondered how much she’d been sleeping. Her attitude wasn’t uncommon. People who learned they were being followed tended to flash into paranoia that was hard to pull away from. To a woman as frightened as Karen Li, this quiet seaside town might seem rife with more menace than a battlefield.

“If not now, when? And can you prove what you’re saying?”

She nodded. “I have something hidden. Not here,” she added. “It’s not safe with me. My house isn’t safe. The people I know aren’t safe. But if you show me I can really trust you, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Narwhal. Ten o’clock. I’ll be there.” Seeing the anxiety in her eyes, I added, “And if I can, I’ll help you.” I squeezed her hand.

I got up, headed down off the porch toward town. In spite of the urgency, if she was telling the truth, I didn’t want to push too hard for what she knew. I had been following her, after all. I had accepted money from the people she was most frightened of. The woman was in a scary situation and it had taken a visible toll. If she was going to trust me, part of that meant respecting her terms rather than pressing hard for everything at once. I’d show up at ten, as she wanted, and if she really was in danger I’d get her out of town and somewhere safe.

Her voice called after me. “One more thing.”

I paused on the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Whatever you think. Whatever you’ve guessed. It’s much worse.”





24


The Narwhal Cottages were reached by a long, curving driveway that slanted up from Highway 1. I left the Harley at the bottom of the driveway. The big engine was too loud. Especially grinding up a winding incline, people would hear it and remember it. With some effort I eased the heavy motorcycle off the paving into the trees. Glad I had chosen the blacked-out model. No chrome made it harder for headlights to pick up. Not invisible, but hard to notice and easy to miss. It was a cold night, but the exertion of walking fast up the steep driveway warmed me. The rain had let off and misted into a heavy fog. Swaths of cloud swirled over a dim moon.

When I reached the top of the driveway I was far above sea level. On clear days, the view of the Pacific was surely stunning. Now, not even the stars were visible. There was a house off to one side, probably where guests could check in, maybe containing a restaurant as well. Farther on, cabins of varying sizes were set between the trees. Each had a chimney. To allow for the romance of a fireplace. Behind a few of the cottages I could see redwood hot tubs. A couple could open a bottle of wine, sit in the warm bubbling water under the stars. I thought again of Ethan. Imagined us, someplace like this, doing something like that. It sounded good. It sounded like a fantasy and not much more.