Page 93 of Riptide
"Thorne?" She tilted her head, frowning slightly. "I don't think so. Should I?"
A lie. Gabe was certain of it. But he pressed forward. "He's been staying in Haven Cove for about a week. Forties, dark hair, nervous demeanor. Drives a rental car with Oregon plates."
Blaire shook her head slowly. "Doesn't ring a bell. Why? Is he the one who cut my brakes?"
"He's a person of interest. And about an hour ago, he attacked Cara Sweet in a parking lot behind the hardware store on Fifth."
Blaire's hand went to her throat.
"I know you met with her tonight," Gabe continued. "In that same parking lot. You left seconds before the attack."
Blaire's expression flickered—surprise that he knew, quickly masked. "How did you?—"
"Doesn't matter. What matters is that Thorne was waiting." Gabe held her gaze. "We think in the dark he mistook Cara for you."
Blaire processed this in silence. "So he's still coming." Her voice lost its sleepy softness. She was fully alert now. "The brakes didn't work, so he tried again. And he got the wrong woman."
"That's our working theory."
"Is Cara okay?" The question came out flat. Perfunctory. Her mind was clearly elsewhere—calculating, connecting dots.
"She'll recover."
"Good." Blaire pressed a hand to her chest, but the gesture felt hollow. Performative. Then her eyes narrowed. "Wait. How did he know I'd be there? That parking lot, that time?" She looked up at Gabe sharply. "I didn't tell anyone about that meeting."
Gabe kept his expression neutral. "That's something we're looking into."
But he could see Blaire arriving at her own answer. The only person who knew about that meeting was Cara, who’d also been at the scene when her brake lines were cut.
Blaire's jaw tightened. Something cold crept into her expression.
From the way Ellie stiffened, she caught it, too. Gabe turned his attention back to Blaire. "Do you have any idea why Michael Thorne would want you dead?"
Her smile was thin. Bitter. "I locate people for a living. Some of them don't want to be found. Business is excellent. There’s a long list."
Especially when she was probably extorting money from most of them. "Anyone specific?"
"No one comes to mind." Another lie. "But clearly someone has a grudge. Someone persistent." She touched her bruised face. "First the brakes. Now this."
Gabe let the silence stretch. Watched her process.
She wasn't just frightened. She was furious. And that fury was aimed somewhere specific—he just couldn't see where yet.
"We're pursuing all leads," Gabe said carefully. "In the meantime, lock your door. Don't go anywhere alone. And call me if you see anything suspicious."
"Count on it." Blaire took his card, though they both knew she already had his number.
They moved toward the door. Gabe paused, turned back. Her flip attitude had gotten on his last nerve, but he kept his voice even. Professional. "I know what you've been doing to Cara."
Blaire went still.
"You implied as much at the diner. And I've seen enough to fill in the blanks." He held her gaze. "Whatever you have on her, whatever you've been leveraging—it ends. Now. Someone just tried to kill you twice. Maybe that's a sign to rethink your business model."
Blaire's smile was thin. Bitter. "Is that a threat? Because last time you tried that, it didn't work out so well for either of us."
"It's advice. From someone who's about to have a lot more questions about your operation." He let that land.
Something flickered in her expression. Fear, maybe. Or calculation.
