Save Me from Dangerous Men (Nikki Griffin #1)(80)

It was a woman with haunted eyes and a rotted marriage who would teach me those things. A woman and, of course, her husband.

I pushed the memories away as I got home. I poured myself a glass of wine and sat on the couch, watching as the bright daylight filling the room was gently throttled by evening shadows. I got up for more wine, returned to the couch, sitting quietly in almost total darkness. The past didn’t matter. Not right now. Now, I needed answers. Which meant I had another woman I had to see, another rotted marriage hiding more secrets.

And another husband.





38


The Johnsons lived in Pacific Heights, an exclusive San Francisco neighborhood full of commanding homes high above the Bay. Their street sloped upward in the kind of ferocious angle that would have been unthinkable in any American city except San Francisco. The Johnsons’ house was a large Victorian set into the top of a hill. Curtained picture windows looked blankly out at the city. The weather was turning colder as October reached its final days. Halloween decorations were up, scarves and hats appearing with more frequency. I had stared at my face in the mirror that morning, seeing the same bags under my eyes, the same lines of stress, that I had seen on Karen’s face in Mendocino. I wasn’t sleeping well. Care4 was in my mind constantly. The company was getting to me. Too many shadows, too many unknowns. I needed time that I didn’t have.

Brenda Johnson had been surprised to hear from me, but she suggested that we meet at her home willingly enough. I waited outside and saw her walking up the street toward me. She must have been coming from the gym, wearing white sneakers and plum-colored leggings and a stylish athletic jacket made out of some kind of stretchy composite fabric. The kind that was marketed to joggers and yoga studios with words like “sweat-wicking” and “airflow” all over the labels. Athleisure. The word, summoned suddenly into existence by parties unknown, was everywhere.

“Hi, Nikki,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”

I was glad that she looked good, flushed and healthy and confident. Very different from the anxious and uncertain woman I had last seen the month before. I held up a cardboard tray, two large cups stuck into it. “I brought coffee. It might be a little cold.”



* * *



Before we sat in the spacious living room, she opened the blinds, revealing panoramic views stretching out to the Bay. The kind of room made for entertaining, clearly furnished by a professional decorator. The paintings fit the walls almost too well, as though they had been chosen chiefly for horizontal and vertical spacing. The house had an open floor plan, a large chef’s kitchen separated from the living room only by a granite island. A bookcase ran against one wall. The books seemed a mix of leather-bound law texts and newer nonfiction titles. Eat Pray Love, The Secret, A Return to Love, How to Sleep Alone in a King-Size Bed. I made a mental note to send Brenda some fiction.

“How have you been?” I asked.

She sat comfortably, a glass coffee table between us. “Lots of changes, but I’m better. Definitely much better. I suppose there’s been a lot to get used to.”

“Is he staying here now?”

“Who, Silas?” That drew her first smile. “I had the locks changed that same week we met. You should have heard him squeal the first time he realized his key didn’t work. I think he’s in a hotel for the time being. One of those fancy places off Union Square that makes you feel like you’re entombed on the Titanic. I hope they forgot to get rid of the asbestos.”

I smiled but kept quiet. She wasn’t done talking.

“As it turns out, the personal trainer was the tip of the iceberg. I found out more. A lot more. He’d been carrying on with different women for more or less our whole marriage.” Her face wrinkled in distaste. “Not to mention the escort services and God knows what else.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay—better that I know.” She smiled again. “The divorce will take awhile to formalize, of course, but then I can make a clean start.” She stirred her coffee even though she’d stirred it three times already. “Thanks again, Nikki, for your help. And for not … taking me up on that rash request I made. I know it wasn’t a good idea. Maybe that’s why it felt so good asking.”

“You were angry,” I said. “You had a right to be. I get it.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Can I ask you a question? How much did Silas talk about his work to you?”

She was surprised. “His work? His legal work, you mean?”

“Yes.”

She considered. “A little, over the years, but never in great detail. Frankly, the corporate law he practiced sounded boring. He liked to name-drop, and he worked for a lot of high-profile people and companies, but he didn’t tell me much about the work itself. Just boasted how we’d be invited to some movie premiere or sports event because of his work with so-and-so.”

“Did he ever mention a company called Care4? In the last few months especially?”

“No, I don’t think so. Why, did something happen?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

She took that in. “Meaning something someone needs to worry about.”

“Maybe.”

Brenda took the spoon she’d been stirring her coffee with and put it down on a saucer with a clink. The coffee was untouched. The paper cup looked out of place on the glass coffee table, next to the china saucer and silver teaspoon. “May I be blunt with you, Nikki?”