Save Me from Dangerous Men (Nikki Griffin #1)(45)
Not fast enough.
Meanwhile, the bedroom door kicked in. A flimsy door. Light wood, basic brass knob. It had probably lasted one good kick, two at most.
The window was a small one but Karen Li hadn’t been a big person. She probably could have hauled herself up through it. Gotten outside to safety or at least the chance of escape. She could have gained the two most precious commodities in that situation: space, and time.
The first blow must have caught her on the shoulder as she was trying to get through the window. The impact had probably knocked her down. Off her feet. Pain would have disoriented her. Maybe she’d tried to regain her feet. Maybe, by that point, she was begging.
The rest was clear enough.
I opened my eyes, then closed them again. Seeing, and not wanting to see. Her attacker had swung again. This time, she’d been facing him. She’d seen it coming. Had raised her arms instinctively. That second blow had broken her arm. And then the third, the one she hadn’t been able to stop. Maybe she had closed her eyes and waited for it. The impact had knocked her over, pulped her face, splattered blood. A vicious blow. Delivered by a person—almost definitely a man—of unusual physical strength.
I was picturing the burly guy who had grabbed her by the ocean that afternoon.
I opened my eyes again. Not wanting to see any more.
A pretty, defenseless woman, crying in pain, pleading for mercy. Not an easy psychological target. A lot of people could throw a punch or swing a bat in fear, or self-defense, or anger. If provoked, people could do all kinds of things they’d never imagine. But to murder with physical force in cold blood? That took a different type. A type that was either pretty far gone mentally, or had done plenty of similar things already.
Maybe both.
A bad way to go. The final seconds full of pain and terror and suffering. Knowing what was happening. What was about to happen. With any luck, she hadn’t felt the final, killing blow. Had slipped into unconsciousness or shock. I hoped so. I doubted I would ever know.
I spent five careful minutes going around the cabin, wiping prints off anything I’d touched. There wasn’t anything worth taking. Her purse was gone. Only a small open overnight bag with some clothes and shoes, her toiletries in the bathroom. I saw her black umbrella, placed neatly by the door to dry.
Whatever you’ve guessed, it’s much worse.
She had been right. As for me?
I hadn’t protected her. I hadn’t saved her.
I had let her die.
I took a last look at the dark-haired woman slumped against the wall. Silently apologizing for leaving her like this. And making her a promise. Then I was outside. Down the fog-choked driveway, on the motorcycle. I didn’t know much about the two men from the afternoon, but I knew their faces and was pretty sure I knew who they worked for. That would have to be enough.
I had failed Karen Li. I had let her go to a very bad death when she needed me most. I couldn’t change that. But when I found the people who had done this, I intended to do everything I could to minimize their remaining time in this world. I’d make sure they knew why. The road unwound. The cold wind rushed against me. The big motorcycle roared as I hurtled along, headlight slashing through the heavy mist.
I was half an hour south of Mendocino before I realized what I’d forgotten.
The GPS tracker still on her car. Directly linking me to a murder. It was too late to go back. Couldn’t take the chance that police might find me there. Would they find the tracker? Maybe not. It was easy to miss. An unpleasant thought settled into my mind just the same. If they did find the little device, it had my fingerprints on it and, worse, electronic records that would lead directly to me. Which meant that if the tracker was discovered I would almost definitely find myself a murder suspect. One with no alibi, at that. Surely people had seen me with Karen Li in town. As we ordered our coffee and tea inside. As we sat talking on the hotel porch. Then, later, I’d been at the scene of the murder, near the time of her death. I had come into town for no apparent reason. Alone.
Which all added up to one thing.
If I didn’t find the men who had killed her, it was entirely possible that I could be charged with the crime myself.
25
I reached the Care4 headquarters the next morning after dropping the Harley back at Buster’s. I hadn’t slept much. That was okay. A couple of shots of scotch in the first of three morning coffees had left me more or less where I wanted to be. A little reckless, a little hot, and all about getting things done.
In the lobby, huge screens on the walls played silent looping videos, endless smiling parents and gurgling babies, all happily connected by technology. More screens showing impoverished villages, dirt streets and huts, panning images of hospitals and grateful patients. Images and captions touting the nonprofit money the company was generous enough to contribute to the world. Two glowing, backlit words were engraved into the wall. WE CARE. A security guard in a black suit jacket sat behind the desk. I didn’t slow down as I walked past him toward the elevators, my boots clicking on polished marble.
“Miss, hold on! You need to check in.” The guard saw I wasn’t stopping. He got up fast and headed to intercept me. A tall, goateed man with sloping shoulders and a bald, shiny head.
“I have an appointment with your CEO.” I pushed the elevator button but nothing happened. It was equipped with an electronic security reader, I realized.