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“Sage. Get down.”
I slink farther down in the back seat. We’re sitting at a stoplight. A car pulls up beside us. But we’re in an SUV and we’re higher than the car. All I can see is the turquoise surfboard strapped to the top. Our windows are up, but our car vibrates with the bass from the music of the neighboring car.
The light turns green. We turn left, leaving the surfboard car behind. We turn left again, and the front of the car rises. A garage door opens. Knox pulls in and almost immediately, the garage door descends. There’s a vibrant town right outside that garage door. A city street. Well, a beach town street.
“Where are we?”
“Home for now. Stay in the car while I clear the house.”
His car door slams and I watch him through the windshield, gun in hand.
This doesn’t feel like a safe house. I imagined a place in the mountains. Hidden in woods. Maybe a small A-frame deep in the mountains accessible by a single winding road. A structure where no one can see if you turn on lights or light a fire in the chimney.
The lights flick on in the garage. Knox steps through the door and slides his gun into a holster on his waist. It’s difficult to stop staring at the gun. My car door opens.
“Come on. I’ll get our bags.”
“Where are we?”
“Little town called Carpinteria.”
I saw that on the sign. “What happened to the safe house?” I reach for a duffel, but Knox raises a shoulder, lifting the bag closest to me out of my reach.
“This is it.”
“We’re in a town.”
“There are lots of Airbnb cottages on this beach. No one will notice us. We’ll look like a couple renting the place. And we’re close enough to HQ we can easily meet up if needed.”
The interior garage door opens into a narrow hallway. A washer and dryer sit in an alcove, and on top of the washing machine sits a sample size plastic bag of Tide detergent. There’s a half bath beside the alcove. A cheery watercolor beach scene hangs over the towel rack. The hallway opens into a kitchen and an open living area. From the den are glass sliding doors that open onto a deck with an overhang.
A wide stretch of sand separates the cottage from the ocean. Beachgoers are lying out, and a couple of surfers straddle their boards off in the distance.
“But anyone can approach?” I’m a kindergarten teacher, not a security expert, but this location feels way too exposed. Those men found us on a hiking trail.
“The glass is bulletproof.”
“Knox, I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but he found me after I followed every precaution. I haven’t turned on my phone.”
He removes his sunglasses, places them on the counter, and leans back against it with his arms crossed.
“We believe they found you through Jimmy.”
“No.” That’s not possible. Jimmy is my closest friend. He’s wrong.
“Our best guess is they have listening devices in his house.”
“Is Jimmy in danger?”
“Unlikely. They must’ve watched to see who came around after your house fire. If they wanted to hurt him, they’ve had plenty of time. All they wanted was your location.”
“This doesn’t make sense.” I pace the room, trying to recall exactly what I said to Jimmy.
“Another theory is someone has a hit out on you. Our tech team is scouring job posts now.”
“Why would anyone–”
“It’s just a theory. If there’s a posting, I’m not optimistic our tech guys will find it. Any postings are usually pretty nondescript until the job is awarded.”
