Page 23 of Crosscurrent

Skye sat near the far corner of the room with one foot tucked beneath her chair. She looked steadier today than she had at four in the morning, though Gabe still noticed how her attention tracked every sound overhead whenever footsteps crossed the bakery floor.

Cara, he was certain, could clock them all.

As if she’d read his thoughts, Cara straightened from beside Tom’s workstation and rubbed the back of her neck. “Snacks are calling.”

“I’ll grab food,” Gabe offered. He was the least occupied person in the room at the moment. If he couldn’t get Tom to unstick his rear end from the chair, he could at least top up the man’s glucose stores.

Reagan pointed her marker toward him. “Pastries. Not those terrible protein bars you keep pretending count as lunch.”

“They have nutrients.”

“They have despair.”

Wade nodded solemnly. “The last kind tasted like drywall.”

Gabe ignored all of them and headed upstairs.

The bakery had quieted into the soft lull between late lunch and after-school traffic. Rain misted against the front windows while Diane boxed muffins behind the counter with the focused efficiency of somebody who had been dealing with humanity continuously since sunrise.

“You people alive down there?” she asked without looking up.

“Debatable.”

“Tom still talking to spreadsheets?”

“He’s escalated into open arguments.”

“Good. Means he’s happy.”

Gabe crossed behind the counter and reached for the pastry trays.

The bell over the front door rang before he could start loading them. Marisa Vega stepped inside carrying rain on the shoulders of her dark uniform coat.

Gabe felt his entire nervous system sharpen immediately.

Not because Vega herself was a threat. Because Skye sat downstairs, one accidental noise or badly timed glimpse away from becoming a very active problem for Haven Cove PD. He couldn’t know if Vega had found any connection between Skye and Harney, but he didn’t want to find out.

Vega spotted him immediately.

Gabe tossed her an offhand salute. “Chief.”

“Retired chief,” Vega responded.

Diane stepped forward. “Hello, Chief. What can I get you?”

“Coffee’ll do, thanks.”

While Diane poured, Vega rested one hand lightly against the counter and eyed Gabe. “Thanks for checking out the scene yesterday. A second set of eyes never hurts.”

“Happy to help. I’m only sorry I couldn’t contribute much.”

“That’s a contribution in itself.”

The woman was smart. And careful. And she paid attention to details.

Gabe kept his expression neutral while balancing the pastry tray against his hip. “How’s the investigation going?”

“Slowly.” Vega accepted the coffee from Diane.