Chapter 15
The plan had been simple. Show up a little after four-thirty and corner Cara about the notebook while she was still half-asleep and unprepared.
Instead, the bakery door stood open when he arrived.
His hand went to his weapon before conscious thought caught up. Training kicked in, overriding everything else. The door shouldn't be open. Not at this hour. Not when she was so careful about everything else.
He moved silently to the entrance. Listened.
Nothing. No voices. No movement. Just the smell of destruction.
Flour. Vanilla. Something sharp and wrong.
He found her in the basement, small and still like prey deciding whether to run or fight.
The protective instinct hit him harder than it should have. Harder than was smart given how many questions she hadn't answered. How many lies she'd probably told.
But standing there among the wreckage, watching her try to hold herself together, Gabe couldn't make the anger stick.
He'd confront her about it when she wasn't in shock. Right now, she needed help whether she deserved it or not.
He made her tea. Documented everything with his phone while she sat at the one clear table, hands wrapped around the mug like it was the only solid thing left in her world.
The boot prints matched the Sea Breeze. Same tread. Same size. Same deliberate search pattern.
They'd been hunting for something specific. And they'd torn apart her bakery to find it.
The notebook had to be what they were after.
Gabe crouched beside the overturned mixer. Photographed the outlet plates someone had pried off. The insulation pulled from the walls. The methodical destruction of someone who knew how to search a space properly.
Definitely not amateur hour.
His jaw tightened.
These weren't random vandals. These were trained operatives. And they thought Cara Sweet had something worth killing for.
He glanced at her. Still trembling. Still shocked. But not surprised. Not the way a normal civilian would be surprised to find her home searched and her business destroyed.
She'd been expecting something. Just not this.
"Were you working with Ruiz?"
The question came out harsher than he'd intended. Less about gathering information. More about the frustration of not knowing whether to protect her or arrest her.
"What? No." She met his eyes. "I only met him that one time when he came…here. And I never met your brother. If I had anything that could help you, I would tell you."
The lie sat between them like a third person in the room.
But calling her on it now, in the middle of this destruction, felt wrong. Cruel. Like kicking someone who was already down.
He could wait until she wasn't shaking. When he had time to plan the interrogation properly.
"You're not staying here alone."
She argued. Of course she argued. The pride and independence of someone who'd been taking care of herself for so long she'd forgotten how to accept help.
Or maybe she just didn't want an FBI agent sleeping on her couch. He couldn’t say he blamed her for that.
"I'm not getting you killed because you're too stubborn to accept help. If I think you know something, they think so too."
What he didn't say: And I'm not letting you out of my sight until I know what you're hiding.
Until I know you're not involved in whatever got Ruiz killed and David taken.
Until I'm sure protecting you isn't the biggest mistake of my career.
She agreed. Reluctantly. With the expression of someone accepting a death sentence instead of an unwanted protector.
They worked in silence after that. Sweeping flour. Documenting damage. Creating order from chaos.
Gabe had interrogated hundreds of suspects. He knew how to read body language. Spot deception. Identify the moment someone decided to lie.
Cara Sweet was lying about something.
But she was also terrified. Exhausted. Standing in the ruins of something that mattered to her.
The ceramic crock broke her first. She lifted it with shaking hands. Whispered a name. “Agnes.”
Gabe kept working. Gave her space. Felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest at the raw grief on her face.
The wooden spoon broke her second. Snapped in half. A gift from someone named Dom.
He filed it away with everything else he didn't understand about her.
Outside, the sky shifted from black to gray. Dawn approaching. The world waking up while they stood in the ruins.
Cara's phone buzzed. She read the message. Hesitated.
Gabe watched the conflict play across her features. The instinct to hide. To handle this alone. To push everyone away.
"She should know."
Cara's head snapped up. Caught. Her eyes tracked him with sudden wariness. "How do you know she's my friend?"
The question came too fast. Too sharp. Like she'd just realized he'd been watching her more closely than she'd thought.
He should lie. Keep his distance.
"Same age. Same town. Both run businesses." The excuse sounded weak. "You seem close."
“Kind of.” She looked back at her phone. “I should text her.”
Cara set down her phone, wrapped both hands around her cold tea, and stared at the destruction.
Lord, I don't know what I'm doing here. But help me figure out if she's a victim or a suspect before someone else gets hurt. Before David dies, if he’s not already gone.
"They're coming back," he said. "You know that, right?"
She flinched, but he pressed harder, needing her to get how much danger she was in.
"They didn’t find what they wanted in Ruiz’s room.
Now they’ve searched here and came up empty again.
" He held her gaze. Let her see the certainty in his eyes.
"Next time they'll make you help. I'm not letting that happen. "
Not just because she might have information about David.
But because somewhere in the past forty-eight hours, Cara Sweet had become his to protect whether he trusted her or not.