Page 79 of Riptide
"I checked with the Haven Cove Inn like you suggested. They've got an out-of-state guest who matches the general description. Checked in three days ago. Drives a rental car." Ellie paused. "Registered as Michael Thorne. California driver's license. But the address listed is just a P.O. box. Something about it feels off."
A fake name, maybe. Or someone who had reasons not to want his real address on file.
"Don't approach him yet," Gabe said. "I want to dig deeper first. Run the name through the system, see what comes back."
"Copy that, Chief." She hung up.
Could be coincidence. Tourists passed through Haven Cove all the time.
Or this Thorne could be their guy.
Either way, it was the first solid lead they had. And Gabe intended to follow it wherever it went.
Even if—especially if—it led away from Cara Sweet.
25
Cara had beenawake since four. She'd baked anyway — it was the only thing that had ever reliably quieted her brain — and now at eleven forty-five she stood at the top of the basement stairs watching Diane handle the lunch rush with the easy confidence she'd had since day one. Like the bakery had always been half hers. Like everything was completely normal.
Nothing was completely normal.
Diane looked up and spotted her. "There you are. I heard about the crash last night." Her brow creased with concern. "Are you okay? Really okay?"
"A few scrapes. Nothing serious."
"You should be resting, not hovering." Diane gestured toward the display cases. "I've got this handled. The lunch special is moving fast—we're almost out of the turkey cranberry."
"I can see that." The cases were half-empty already. A good problem to have. "You're amazing, you know that?"
"I know." Diane's smile softened the words. "Now go do whatever you need to do. I'll hold down the fort."
The bell above the door chimed, and Wade walked in. His gaze swept the room—automatic threat assessment—before landing on Cara. He gave a small nod.
"Wade." Diane's voice carried warmth. "You look like you haven't eaten today."
"I'm fine."
"Uh-huh." She was already reaching for the pastry case. "Ham and cheese croissant. Fresh out of the oven twenty minutes ago."
Wade opened his mouth to protest, but Diane had already bagged it and thrust it into his hands.
"On the house. You're too skinny."
Wade stared at the bag like he wasn't sure what to do with it. "I'm not?—"
"Eat it. Doctor's orders."
"You're not a doctor."
"I'm a mother of three grown sons. Close enough." Diane turned back to the register where a customer was waiting. "Now shoo, both of you. I've got work to do."
Wade mumbled something that might have been thanks and headed for the basement stairs. Cara followed, hiding a smile.
At the counter, a woman with dark hair and paint-stained jeans was studying the pastry case. The artist who'd been coming in regularly for the past week—Cara had seen her sketching in the corner booth most mornings.
"The almond croissants are incredible," the woman said, glancing up with a friendly smile. "I've had three this week. Possibly four. I've lost count."
"They're a customer favorite." Cara paused, feeling like she should make conversation. "Are you visiting Haven Cove long?"
