Page 112 of Riptide
"Well then." Cara took a breath, squaring her shoulders. "I guess we'd better get to work."
38
The cliffs lookeddifferent in daylight.
A little over a month ago, he’d been a Special Agent, racing into Haven Cove desperate to find his missing brother. Staying wasn’t on his radar. Neither was inheriting a broken police department gutted by corruption, it’s chief and most senior officer killed by the smugglers they’d been assisting for years.
And now, here he was, acting Chief of a five-person department, investigating a murder on the cliffs above the waters the Neptune Brotherhood had plied for decades. Haven Cove kept finding new ways to surprise him.
This morning, fog had softened everything—the jagged rocks below, the weathered guardrail, the terrible stillness of Blaire's body on the stones. Now the afternoon sun cut through with brutal clarity, illuminating every detail Gabe wished he could unsee.
Yellow crime scene tape snapped in the coastal wind. A state police forensics van sat parked on the gravel turnout, its back doors open, technicians moving in and out with evidence bags and cameras. The overlook had been trampled by official feet—state officers, medical examiner, photographers—all the necessary machinery of a suspicious death.
The ME had transported Blaire’s body to the county morgue. But Gabe could still see the spot where she'd landed—a dark stain on the rocks below, already being licked by the incoming tide. Soon, the ocean would erase even that.
Gabe parked behind the forensics van and spotted Ellie near the trailhead, talking with Cho and Burkhardt—the sum total of Haven Cove PD's remaining patrol staff. All three looked exhausted, running on coffee and adrenaline after being called out at first light.
"Chief." Ellie broke away as he approached. "State police have the scene locked down. We've been assisting with perimeter, but they've got it handled."
Gabe nodded, surveying his small crew. Cho was barely two years out of the academy—eager, capable, but green. Burkhardt had fifteen years under his belt, most of it in traffic enforcement. Neither was equipped for a homicide investigation.
"Head back to town," Gabe told them. "Cho, I need you on patrol—visible presence, reassure the locals. Burkhardt, handle any calls that come in. Ellie, you're with me for now, but I'll release you within the hour."
"You sure, Chief?" Ellie's dark eyes were sharp, questioning. "I can stay if you need?—"
"I'm sure. The State Police team has this covered, and I need bodies back in Haven Cove. We can't neglect the rest of the town because of one case."
Cho and Burkhardt headed for their rigs. Gabe studied Burkhard’s posture. The man was still stiff around him, still uncertain. Not that Gabe blamed him. A month in, of course the shadow of Hale’s betrayal hung over every interaction.
Ellie lingered.
She was silent for a moment, processing. "Can't say I'm surprised someone pushed her." She caught Gabe's expressionand shrugged. "I know. Shouldn't speak ill of the dead. But that woman had a darkness in her, Chief. You could see it in her eyes."
"Yeah." Gabe thought of Blaire in her hotel doorway, promising to destroy Cara's life. "You could."
"Anything else you need from me before I head back?"
"Just keep your ears open. Small town like this, people talk. If anyone saw anything last night—a car on the coast road, a stranger asking about the cliffs—I want to know about it."
Ellie nodded and headed for her cruiser. Gabe watched her go, grateful for her competence and her discretion. She hadn't asked about Cara. Hadn't pushed for details she knew he couldn't share. A good officer. A better friend than he probably deserved.
He turned back toward the overlook and spotted Tyler Price near the guardrail, talking to one of the forensics techs. Even from a distance, Gabe could read his old friend's posture—relaxed but alert, the stance of a man who'd seen enough death to process it without flinching but hadn't grown callous to it.
They'd crossed paths years ago, back when Gabe was on special assignment in Oregon and Tyler was already a fixture in the state police. Different agencies, different jurisdictions, different chains of command—but Gabe had done Tyler's family a quiet favor, the kind that never made it into any report.
Tyler's nephew. His sister's kid. Twenty years old, scared, and tangled up in the bottom rung of a crime syndicate Gabe's unit had spent eighteen months targeting. The kid wasn't a player—just an addict who'd stumbled into the wrong orbit. Gabe had made sure he got pulled into protective custody before the takedown happened, and bundled off to rehab before anyone with a grudge could find him.
It hadn't felt like a big thing at the time. The kid needed a straight path more than he needed a charge sheet. Gabe had been glad to help.
Tyler had never forgotten it.
What started as professional courtesy—a returned call here, a shared resource there—had slowly become something more durable. The kind of friendship that didn't require regular maintenance, just held, the way good things do when they're built on something real.
And then Tyler had paid him back in spades, covering for Gabe and feeding him every bit of intel he could while Gabe hunted for his missing brother last month.
Tyler looked up as Gabe approached, his dark eyes crinkling with something between welcome and wariness. He was a tall man, lean and weathered, with close-cropped gray hair and the kind of calm authority that made witnesses want to confide in him. Gabe had seen him coax confessions out of men twice his size just by listening patiently, like he had all the time in the world.
"Gabe." Tyler extended his hand. "Appreciate you coming back out."
