Page 73 of Riptide
And somehow, he had to do all of it without anyone looking too closely at Cara Sweet.
The ambulance doors opened. EMTs rushed toward the Mercedes with a stretcher and medical bags.
Gabe pulled out his phone, started documenting the scene. Photos of the crash. The brake line. The fluid trail.
Evidence that pointed to premeditation. To someone who'd known Blaire would be here, known when, known the car would be unattended long enough to sabotage.
Someone besides Cara.
23
Three hours later,Cara sat at the conference table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long gone cold. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the faces of her team.
Her family, really. The people who'd shown up for her when she had no right to expect it.
Wade leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Reagan sat beside Cara, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Tom was at his workstation, monitors glowing, fingers occasionally moving across the keyboard even as he listened. Piper had claimed her usual spot on the floor, legs crossed, laptop open but forgotten.
No Gabe.
That absence felt louder than anything else in the room.
"So someone tried to kill her," Reagan said finally, breaking the silence that had stretched too long. "And it wasn't any of us."
"Definitely wasn't me," Wade said dryly. "Though I won't pretend I wasn't tempted."
"Wade." Reagan shot him a look.
"I'm joking." He paused. "Mostly."
Cara stared at the table. She'd watched Blaire Mitchell's car slam into a rock wall. Had heard the woman scream. Had pulled on a jammed door, trying to save the life of someone who'd been systematically destroying hers.
The irony still made her head spin.
"Walk us through it again," Tom said, not looking up from his screens. "The timeline. Everything you remember."
Cara took a breath. " Blaire's car was already there when I got to the cottage. We talked inside for maybe ten minutes. She was scared about the FBI email, convinced I'd turned her in. I denied it. She..." Cara hesitated. "She offered me a deal. Said she'd stop asking for money if I'd vouch for her. Be a character witness if anyone came asking questions."
Tom snorted. “Wow. Seriously? After she threatened to ruin your life?”
“She’s not big on self-reflection,” Cara muttered.
Wade set down his water bottle. “No joke.”
"And you said?" Reagan asked.
"I said I'd think about it. Then she left. I was walking to my car when I heard her engine start." Cara's hands tightened on the cold mug. "The headlights came right at me. I thought—I thought she was trying to run me down. But then I heard her screaming. And the car just kept going. Straight into the wall."
"Someone cut her brake lines,” Wade said. “After she got to the meeting site. There’s no evidence of brake fluid on the road in.”
"I’ve been thinking about the timeline." Cara looked up at him. "It had to be while you were scouting the perimeter and before I got there."
“That would only give them a few minutes, at most.” Wade shook his head slowly. "I got there around seven-fifteen to scout positions. Set up behind the old storage shed. Had eyes on thecottage and the main approach road the whole time." His jaw tightened. "But I wasn't watching the parking area."
"So they knew about the meeting," Reagan said.
"How?" Tom asked quietly. "How would anyone else know?"
The question hung in the air.
