Page 28 of Riptide
"Did you follow up with Mitchell?"
"Tried. She claimed she'd completed her contract and moved on. Very professional, very cooperative. Even showedus her files—all clean. We couldn't prove anything." Hackett’s voice turned curious. "Why? She causing trouble in your jurisdiction?"
"Not sure yet."
"Well, off the record? I didn't like her. Too smooth. Too clean. The kind of person who knows exactly where the legal lines are and dances right up to them without crossing." The man paused. "If you've got something on her, I'd love to know. Webb wasn't our only complaint about her. Just the only one that came close to charges."
Gabe thanked him and hung up.
He pulled up his notes. That made four cases he'd found so far where Blaire had been hired to locate someone, and months later, that someone had filed complaints about harassment or financial irregularities. None of the victims would cooperate with investigations. All of them went quiet shortly after.
So Blaire would get hired legitimately. Would find her target using legal methods. Would document everything for her Instagram—the investigation, the techniques, the eventual success. All above board.
Gabe guessed the rest. She’d approach the target privately and agree to keep their secrets…for a price, he had no doubt.
Completely untouchable from a legal standpoint unless some of her blackmail victims agreed to testify. Which never happened. That’s what made blackmail such a great con.
Gabe stood, paced his small office. The problem was evidence. He had patterns, suspicions, connections. But nothing that would hold up in court. And certainly nothing that would give him grounds for official action. Oh, and absolutely no jurisdiction now that he was tied to Haven Cove. She'd talked to him at a diner, walked down Main Street, maybe filmed some video. All protected activities.
He couldn't arrest her, or even formally investigate her without probable cause.
But he could talk to her.
The thought had been building all day. Not as Police Chief Sawyer conducting official business. But as Gabe Sawyer, former FBI agent who knew how to apply pressure.
Sometimes the best way to stop a predator was to let them know they were being watched. Even better if he could make them understand that this particular target was protected. Often that was enough to get them to move on to easier pickings.
It was a risk, for sure. If Blaire decided to escalate instead of backing off. Could make things worse for Cara.
But doing nothing while Blaire circled closer felt impossible.
His phone rang. David.
"Hey, little brother. What's up?"
"Just calling to check on you." David's voice was warm. Healthy. So different from three weeks ago when Gabe had been racing against time to find him. "How's the chief thing going?"
"It's... an adjustment."
"That bad, huh?"
"Let's just say I spent an hour this morning explaining to Mrs. Sampson that her neighbor receiving mail is not, in fact, evidence of criminal activity."
David laughed. "Welcome to small-town life. You miss the Bureau yet?"
Gabe looked at his computer screen. At Blaire Mitchell's Instagram. At the pattern of destroyed lives wrapped in heart emojis and inspirational quotes.
"Sometimes the work finds you anyway."
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just... dealing with something. Nothing official."
"Cara, right?" David's tone turned knowing. “Dude, just ask her out. Seriously.”
Gabe made a strangled sound. “How about you stay in your lane, little bro.”
“Oooh, the Big Bro slap down. You’ve got it bad.” David paused. "Seriously though. You good? You sound stressed."
