Page 74 of Riptide
"Someone's watching her," Wade said. "Has been for a while, maybe. Waiting for an opportunity."
"Maybe it’s one of her other victims," Reagan suggested. "She's destroyed a lot of lives. Any one of them might have snapped. Decided to take matters into their own hands."
“We have a bigger problem," Cara said.
Tom nodded grimly. "The FBI verification."
"What about it?" Piper looked between them.
"According to the email updates he’s sent Blaire, her lawyer has been making calls," Tom explained. "Trying to verify that the FBI investigation is real. So far, they've gotten the standard response—can't confirm or deny ongoing investigations. But it's only a matter of time before someone slips, or they push hard enough to figure out that Special Agent Rita Martinez doesn't exist."
"How long?" Reagan asked.
"Could be tomorrow. Could be a few days. But it's coming." Tom pulled up a screen showing phone records. "The lawyer's already contacted the Portland FBI field office twice. Left messages both times. Eventually, someone's going to call back and tell them there's no investigation."
Their fake FBI email had bought them time, rattling Blaire and distracting her from pursuing Cara. But that window was closing fast.
"So what do we do?" Piper asked.
"We use the time we have," Wade said. "Blaire's in the hospital. Concussed, scared, dealing with the fact that someonejust tried to kill her. She's not focused on Cara at the moment. We need to move while she's distracted."
"Move how?" Cara asked.
Tom spun his chair to face them. "I've been digging deeper into her systems. The backdoor I built while she was hunting Miranda Wells—it's still active. I can access her cloud storage, her files, her program. But I need more time to map everything without triggering her security alerts."
"Then take the time," Reagan said. "What else?"
"We keep the pressure on," Wade suggested. "More distractions. More threats from different angles. Make her feel like she's under attack from multiple directions. The more overwhelmed she is, the more mistakes she'll make."
Cara nodded slowly. It made sense. Keep Blaire off-balance. Keep her focused on threats that weren't Cara. Buy time for Tom to find whatever evidence they needed to take her down permanently.
But even as she agreed, a cold knot of dread settled in her stomach.
Because Blaire Mitchell wasn't stupid. And eventually, she was going to figure out that Cara was behind all of this.
One day at a time.
That had been Cara's motto for years. In prison. On the run. Building this new life in Haven Cove. One day at a time, because thinking further ahead meant confronting everything that could go wrong.
But tomorrow meant facing Gabe. Looking into those steady brown eyes and lying to him. Again.
Lord, I don't know how much longer I can do this. I'm so tired of lying. So tired of being afraid.
The prayer felt thin. Desperate. Like shouting into a void and hoping someone was listening.
"We should get some sleep," Tom said, breaking the silence. "Tomorrow's going to be long."
The team began to disperse. Wade nodded once—his version of emotional support—and headed for the stairs. Reagan lingered.
"You going to be okay?"
Cara managed a weak smile. "Ask me tomorrow."
"I'm asking now."
"Then... I don't know." Cara looked around the basement. At the monitors and equipment. At the evidence of everything they'd built here, everything they were fighting for. "I keep thinking about what Blaire said at the cottage. That she's just trying to survive. Same as me."
"She's nothing like you."
