Page 76 of Riptide
Including Gabe.
24
Haven Cove General Hospitalwas small by any standard—twenty beds, a handful of doctors, and a nursing staff that knew every patient by name.
Gabe walked through the automatic doors, badge on his belt, notebook in hand. He'd been up since five, unable to sleep, replaying the crash scene in his mind. The cut brake line. Cara's bleeding face. The decision to let her leave.
A decision that could end his career if anyone looked too closely.
He pushed the thought aside and approached the nurses' station.
A tired-looking nurse directed him to Blaire’s room with a tired smile. "She's been awake since six. Demanding a private room, better pillows, and organic juice." The nurse's expression said everything her professional demeanor wouldn't allow. "We kept her overnight to monitor the head injury, but she'll be discharged this afternoon. Physically, she's fine. Minor concussion, facial bruising." The nurse handed him a clipboard to sign. "Good luck in there."
Blaire sat propped up in the hospital bed, looking significantly worse than the polished Instagram influencer he'dmet at the diner. Her face was mottled with purple and yellow bruises, butterfly bandages holding together a cut above her eyebrow. Her perfect blonde hair was tangled, pulled back in a messy knot.
But her eyes were sharp. Calculating. Already assessing him as he entered.
"Hi, Gabe. Took you long enough."
She had no idea. If he had his way, he wouldn’t be talking to her at all. He pulled a chair closer to the bed, flipped open his notebook. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone tried to kill me." She shifted against the pillows, wincing at the movement. "Which someone did. Have you caught them yet?"
"Working on it." He clicked his pen. "Let's start with why you were at the lighthouse cottage."
The cover story came out smooth and practiced. Genealogical research for Cara Sweet. A private meeting to discuss findings about her great-aunt Margaret. Small town, people talk, needed somewhere discreet.
Gabe wrote it down without reacting. The lie was obvious, but he let her spin it out, watching for cracks in the performance.
"And the meeting itself? How did it go?"
"Fine. We talked for about ten minutes or so. Then I left." Her composure flickered slightly. "Got in my car, started the engine, and the brakes didn't work. I pressed the pedal and nothing happened. The car just kept going."
"You didn't try to turn? Steer away from the wall?"
"I tried." Her voice tightened. "Everything happened so fast. One second I was driving, the next I was heading straight for those rocks."
When he told her the brake line had been deliberately cut, fear flickered beneath her composure. Real fear. Whatever else she was hiding, the crash had genuinely shaken her.
"I knew it," she said quietly. "Someone's been after me."
"What do you mean?"
She hesitated, and Gabe watched her calculate. He could almost see the gears turning—how much to reveal, how much to hold back. She wanted whoever did this caught, that much was clear. But she also had secrets she wasn't willing to expose, even to save her own skin.
"There have been... incidents," she said finally. "Strange things happening. I can't get into specifics, but someone's been making my life difficult lately. I thought it was just business complications. Now I'm not so sure."
Vague. Deliberately so. She was fishing for information without giving any.
"What kind of incidents?"
"The kind I'd rather not discuss with law enforcement." Her smile was thin, brittle. "No offense, Chief, but I'm sure you understand. A woman in my profession has to be careful about what she shares with police. It could compromise ongoing work."
Translation: she had plenty to hide, and she knew he knew it.
"Someone tried to kill you. If there's information that could help identify?—"
"I've told you everything relevant." Her tone hardened. "I have enemies. People who don't appreciate being found. That's the nature of my work. I'll give you names of people who've made threats in the past, but I'm not opening my entire client list to police scrutiny."
