Page 90 of Riptide
Gabe ran harder, blind in the fog, following sounds that twisted and scattered in the damp air. Every second felt like a minute. Every stride covered too little ground.
He burst through a wall of fog and found them.
A man on top of Cara. Hands around her throat. But she was fighting—clawing at his face, twisting beneath him. She'd created space somehow, enough to gasp for air.
"Police! Get off her! Now!"
The man's head snapped up. Wild eyes. Dark hair.
Recognition punched Gabe in the gut. The same face on their suspect’s driver’s license photo. Michael Thorne.
Footsteps pounded from the other direction. Wade emerged from the fog at a dead sprint, weapon drawn.
Thorne saw two men converging. For one frozen moment, his eyes darted between them—calculating, desperate. Then he released Cara and bolted, disappearing into the fog.
Wade didn't hesitate. He veered after Thorne, vanishing into the darkness.
Gabe holstered his weapon and dropped to his knees beside Cara.
"Cara. Cara, can you hear me?"
She was gasping, choking, her hands at her throat. Red marks already darkening on her skin. But her eyes were open. She was breathing.
"You're okay," he said, not sure if he was telling her or himself. "You're going to be okay."
He helped her into a sitting position, keeping one hand on her shoulder to steady her. "I'm calling this in."
He keyed his radio, reported the attack, requested backup and an ambulance. Dispatch confirmed units were enroute.
Cara's hand found his arm, gripping hard. Her voice came out raw, barely a whisper. "Gabe..."
"Don't talk. Your throat?—"
"Who was that?" She forced the words out. "I couldn't see— he came from behind?—"
But Gabe had seen his face. That split second when Thorne had looked up, wild-eyed and desperate.
"Michael Thorne," he said quietly. "The man from the inn. The one who cut Blaire's brake lines."
Cara's eyes widened. "But why would he attack me?"
Before Gabe could answer, Wade materialized out of the fog, breathing hard.
"Lost him. He had a car waiting on the next block." Wade crouched beside Cara, his face tight. "You okay?"
She nodded, then winced. "Your shout," she rasped. "That's what— he looked up for a second. Gave me an opening."
Wade's jaw flexed. "Should've been faster. Should've seen him sooner."
"You saw him in time." Gabe met Wade's eyes. "She's alive because you did."
A beat of silence passed between them. Two men who understood that sometimes the margin between life and death was measured in seconds.
"The fog," Wade said. Not an excuse. Just acknowledgment.
Gabe nodded. "What happened? Why was she out here?"
Cara and Wade exchanged a glance. That silent communication that told Gabe more than words ever could.
