Sara Kim contacted me.
That was the first thing that surprised me. I had been about to call her. I had Adrian’s nod, I had the number from a contact Olivia had sent me three days ago with the message “she’s good, she’s careful, she’ll listen before she talks,” and I had my phone in my hand. And then my phone rang, and the number on the screen was one I had never seen before, and the voice on the other end said, without preamble: “Ms. Bennett. My name is Sara Kim. I think you’ve been expecting me, or I’ve been expecting you, and at this point I’m not sure which direction this was going to go. But I’d like to meet.”
I looked at my phone for a moment.
“Today?” I said.
“If you can.”
I could.
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She chose the meeting place. A small Korean restaurant in Koreatown that did not take rese
