Page 102 of Riptide
"Don't play dumb. You came here to take her out. The brakes failed, so you tried again in the parking lot."
"No." Thorne shook his head, agitation creeping into his voice. "No, that wasn't me. I only got to Haven Cove yesterday. I didn't—I wouldn't even know how to cut brake lines."
"You built a sophisticated surveillance system. I think you could it out."
"Software is different than cars." Thorne's hands were trembling again. "I'm telling you, it wasn't me. I only tried once. Last night. And I told you. I didn’t plan to kill her.”
"We'll be checking your story," Gabe said flatly. "Receipts. Gas station cameras. Hotel records. If you were anywhere near Haven Cove two days ago?—"
"I wasn't. I swear." Thorne leaned forward, almost pleading. "Check whatever you want. I was still in Portland. I have receipts, timestamps, everything. I didn't cut anyone's brake lines."
Gabe studied him. The desperation. The trembling hands. Either Thorne was telling the truth, or he was smart enough to know that premeditated attempted murder looked a lot worse than a sloppy assault gone wrong.
Gabe sat back, processing. Thorne was pathetic. Desperate. Broken by years of Blaire's manipulation. But he'd also choked Cara.
"The person who sent you that tip," Gabe said slowly. "You said they knew things only someone close to Blaire would know."
Thorne nodded.
Gabe turned that over in his mind. "Someone close to her. Someone who wanted her hurt—or dead-- badly enough to point you in Blaire’s direction.”
"I guess I was the weapon," Thorne said bitterly. "And I missed."
Gabe stood. "We're booking you on assault charges. A lawyer will be appointed if you can't afford one. I suggest you cooperate fully—it's the only thing that might help you at this point."
"Chief." Thorne's voice stopped him at the door. "Whoever sent that message... they're still out there. They wanted Blaire taken out. They're not going to stop just because I failed."
Gabe met his eyes. "I know."
He left Thorne in the holding cell and found Ellie waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, expression thoughtful.
"Someone set him up," she said. Not a question.
"Looks like it. Anonymous tip, just enough information to point him at Blaire and wind him up like a weapon."
"What about the brake lines? He cop to that?"
"Claims he wasn't in town yet. Says he only got here yesterday."
Ellie raised an eyebrow. "You buying that?"
"I don't know." Gabe leaned against the wall, exhaustion pressing down on him. "He was pretty convincing. Offered to prove it—receipts, gas station footage. But..."
Ellie shrugged. "He's been trapped by a professional blackmailer for years. Maybe he's picked up some acting skills."
"Maybe." Gabe didn't sound convinced, even to himself. "We'll verify his timeline. Pull the gas station footage, check his receipts. If he was in Portland when those brakes got cut, we'll know."
"And if his alibi holds?"
Gabe met her eyes. They both knew what that meant. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Thorne's our guy for the assault. The brake lines..." He shook his head. "We verify first, theorize later."
"Fair enough." Ellie glanced toward the holding cell. "But if there is someone else, that's a whole different level of planning. That's not desperate. That's patience."
"Yup."
Ellie was quiet for a moment. “I’m on the clock until 1800. You want me to watch the Mitchell woman? I can arrange for Cho to relieve me.”
Gabe glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost 1600.
