Page 117 of Riptide
"Great," Reagan muttered. "So we're already on the neighbor's bad side."
"Pretty much."
They took the elevator to the third floor. Apartment 3C—Jessica's unit—had a cheerful welcome mat that seemed to mock the darkness behind the door. Cara knocked anyway.
Nothing.
She tried again. "Jessica? It's Cara Sweet. I know you told me not to come back, but something's happened."
Silence.
Reagan moved to the neighboring door—3B—and knocked. After a moment, it cracked open, chain still engaged. A woman in her sixties peered out, silver hair pulled back in a messy bun. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted Cara.
"You again." Her voice was flat. "And you brought a different friend this time. I told you people to leave Jessica alone."
"Ma'am, we're not here to cause trouble," Reagan said, her voice smooth and reassuring. "We just need to know if you've seen Jessica recently. It's urgent."
"Urgent." The woman snorted. "That's what you said last time. Before you showed up at her work and nearly got her fired."
Cara stepped forward. "Please. A woman is dead. We think Jessica might be in danger."
The neighbor's expression shifted—suspicion giving way to something else. Concern, maybe. Or fear.
"Dead? What woman?"
"The woman responsible for Shawn Forsythe’s death." Cara held the neighbor's gaze. "She was killed two nights ago. And we need to make sure Jessica is safe."
The chain slid free. The door opened wider.
"She left," the neighbor said quietly. "Four, maybe five days ago. Packed a big suitcase, threw it in her car."
"Did she say where she was going?"
"No. But she gave me her key, asked me to water her plants." The neighbor's eyes darted between them. "Said she might be gone for a while. Needed to 'take care of something.'"
Cara's stomach tightened. Four or five days ago. Right around the time Blaire arrived in Haven Cove.
"Did she say anything else? Anything about where she was headed, or why?"
The neighbor hesitated. "She said... she said it was almost over. That she'd finally figured out a way to end it." Her voice dropped. "I thought she meant her grief. The therapy she's been doing. I didn't think..."
She didn't finish. Didn't need to.
"Thank you," Reagan said. "If she comes back, or if you hear from her, please call us." She handed over a card. "It's important."
The neighbor took the card with trembling fingers. "Is Jessica in trouble?"
Cara didn't know how to answer that. "We just want to talk to her. Make sure she's okay."
They left the neighbor standing in her doorway, clutching Reagan's card.
Back in the truck, Reagan called Tom on speaker.
"Jessica's in the wind," she reported. "Left Portland four or five days ago. Neighbor said she was 'taking care of something.' Said it was 'almost over.'"
"That lines up with when Blaire arrived in Haven Cove,” he said.
"Any luck tracking her digitally?"
