Chapter 8 #2
"By all means." She gestured graciously, like she was granting him a favor. "Can I get you coffee? The stuff here is terrible, but it's all they have."
"I'm fine."
Blaire studied him with those sharp eyes. "You look very serious. Is this official police business?"
"Let's call it a conversation between professionals."
"Ooh, mysterious." She leaned back, crossed her legs. "I'm intrigued."
Gabe pulled out his phone and opened his notes. "Marcus Webb. Tanner White. Samantha Pike. Should I keep going?"
Something flickered in Blaire's expression. Just for a moment.
"I'm sorry, who?"
"These are all people you were hired to find. People who, months later, filed harassment complaints or suddenly declared bankruptcy or disappeared entirely." He set his phone on the table between them. "Interesting pattern."
"I don't know what you're implying—"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating facts." Gabe kept his voice level. Conversational. "You get hired to find people. You do excellent work—completely legal, well-documented, perfect for your Instagram. So far, so good."
He leaned forward slightly. "But then something changes. Your targets start having problems. Financial pressure. Anonymous harassment. Cyberstalking. And you? You post vague things about how 'the universe' handles justice. How 'secrets always come out.' How 'interesting people make good stories.'"
Blaire's smile never wavered, but her eyes went cold. "That's an fascinating theory, Chief. Very creative. But I'm just a private investigator doing legitimate work. If people have problems after I find them, that's not my responsibility."
"Except I’m willing to bet sometimes, when the situation presents itself, you approach them after you find them. Offer to 'help' with whatever they're hiding. For a price."
"Do I?"
"Yeah. You do. Marcus Webb told Portland PD you approached him. Told him you knew he was hiding from his business partner for good reason. Offered to lose the files for twenty-five thousand."
"He lied."
"Maybe. But it's interesting how many of your targets tell similar lies.
" Gabe closed his phone. "Here's what I think.
I think you've built a business model around blackmail.
You get hired legitimately, which gives you cover.
You find people who can't go to the authorities because they're hiding something. And then you squeeze them."
Blaire's smile sharpened. "And what are you going to do about it, Chief? Arrest me? For what? Having conversations? Doing my job? Posting on social media?"
Gabe met her eyes. "Here's the thing. I don't need to arrest you. I just need to make you understand something."
"And what's that?"
"That Cara Sweet is under my protection. Whatever you think you know about her, whatever leverage you think you have, it won't work here."
Blaire laughed. "Oh, that is so adorable. The protective police chief." She leaned forward, mirroring his posture. "But Chief, I bet you don't know what I know about her. You don't know what she's hiding. You're protecting someone you don't understand."
He waited, calm and quiet, unwilling to give her even a hint to suggest she was right.
Her eyes gleamed. "I've been doing this a long time. And I'm very, very good at it. I can see patterns. Read people. Find the cracks in their stories." She tilted her head. "What do you really know about your cute little baker? Her history? Where she came from? Who she was before Haven Cove?"
Gabe kept his expression neutral. "That's her business."
"Is it? When she's running a fraudulent business in your town? When she's living under a false identity? When she's—"
"Be very careful what you say next." Gabe's voice went cold. "Because whatever Cara is or isn't, she's a member of my community. And I take that seriously."
Blaire studied him for a long moment. Then she smiled. “I'm a businesswoman, Chief. I provide a service. I find people. Period."
"Call it whatever you want. It stops here."
"Or what?" Blaire leaned back, confidence radiating from her. "You'll arrest me for talking to people? You'll charge me with being successful at my job? I know how this works. Trust me. You have nothing. No evidence. No witnesses who'll testify. No crime you can prove."
He put his hands on the table, leaned down. "I will. So here's my offer: leave Haven Cove, and never contact Cara Sweet again. Or I make you my full-time job."
Blaire's smile never faltered, but something dangerous flickered in her eyes. "That sounds like a threat, Chief."
"It's a promise."
They stared at each other. Silent. Measuring.
Finally, Blaire laughed. "You know what? I like you. You're direct. Honest. A little naive, but that's charming." She stood, gathering her phone and purse. "But here's the thing. I'm not doing anything illegal. If Cara has a problem with that, she can talk to me herself."
She left.
Gabe stood alone in the empty room, jaw clenched, knowing he'd just made everything worse.
Because he hadn't scared Blaire off.
He'd challenged her.
And predators didn't back down when challenged.
They escalated.
His phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number.
He opened it.
A photo. Of him talking to the desk clerk.
Below it: Small town police chief threatens innocent businesswoman. Interesting story. My followers would eat it up.
Gabe stared at his phone, ice flooding his veins.
He'd just made everything worse.
And Blaire Mitchell had documented the whole thing.