Chapter 27
Cara had dropped Piper off at her house before, but she’d never been inside. The team usually met at the bakery basement, neutral ground that belonged to no one and everyone.
She expected to be inside one day, maybe for a summer get together with the people she was fast becoming close to.
But now she stood on the porch of the modest craftsman bungalow, taking in the details that told the story of a single dad and his teenage daughter, while they plotted to take down a blackmailer.
A wind chime made of old computer keys hung near the door. Potted succulents lined the railing, each in a hand-painted container—Piper's work, clearly, all bright colors and abstract patterns.
Reagan answered her knock. "Come on. Tom's been pacing for an hour."
The living room continued the theme—cozy chaos with personality.
A sagging corduroy couch covered in quilted blankets.
Bookshelves overflowing with paperbacks, tech manuals, and art supplies.
One wall held a gallery of framed photographs: Tom and Piper at various ages, camping trips and science fairs and goofy selfies.
A much younger Tom holding a baby Piper, both of them grinning at the camera.
No photos of a mother anywhere. Cara noticed that absence like a held breath.
"Tom’s office is through the kitchen," Reagan said.
Cara followed her past a refrigerator covered in Piper's artwork—everything from childhood crayon drawings to recent watercolors—and down a narrow hallway.
Tom's office was a different world entirely.
Four monitors glowing, cables snaking across the floor, empty coffee cups on every flat surface.
But even here, Piper's presence showed: a tie-dyed beanbag chair in the corner, a string of fairy lights along one wall, a hand-lettered sign above Tom's workstation that read "HACK THE PLANET" in rainbow colors.
The team was assembled. Wade against the wall near the exit. Piper cross-legged on her beanbag, laptop balanced on her knees, chewing on a pen cap.
Tom sat motionless at his workstation. That stillness worried Cara most. Tom was never still.
"Finally," Piper said, bouncing up. "Dad's been doing his creepy statue thing for like twenty minutes. It's freaking me out."
"What did you find?" Cara asked.
Tom swiveled to face her. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. "I got lucky. Blaire logged in without her VPN for about six minutes. Probably distracted by everything we've been throwing at her." A tired smile. "Six minutes was enough."
He pulled up a file. Lines of code scrolled across the screen.
"I found the program. She calls it Huntress."
"Ominous much?" Piper muttered.
"Custom AI that crawls databases looking for anomalies," Tom continued.
"People who don't exist before a certain date.
Credit histories that start from nothing.
Inheritance records that don't match family trees.
" He glanced at Cara. "Like Margaret Sweet having no living relatives, but suddenly having a grandniece. "
"She found me with this program?"
"Within two weeks of your inheritance filing. You appeared on her radar automatically."
"What databases?" Wade moved closer.
Tom's expression darkened. "Probably literally any database she wants. Credit bureaus. Hospital systems. DMV. At least three federal law enforcement systems. Every time this program runs, she's committing multiple felonies."
Piper whistled low. "Girl's got range."
"I doubt she built it herself.” Wade said.
“Definitely not,” Tom agreed. “I found references to someone called MT. He's been maintaining the code, but I don't think it's voluntary." Tom frowned. "My guess? She's blackmailing him too. Forced him to build it, now forced to keep it running."
Cara thought about the nervous man Gabe learned about at the inn. Michael Thorne. MT.
"There's one more thing." Tom looked at Cara. "I found your file."
A document filled the screen. Cara's face—from the bakery website. Below it, pages of information. Inheritance paperwork. Family tree analysis. Screenshots showing no trace of Cara Sweet before Haven Cove.
And at the bottom:
Identity fabrication confirmed. Original identity unknown. High-value target—recommend maximum extraction.
"Maximum extraction," Cara repeated. "That's what I am to her."
"That's what you were." Piper stood, moving to her dad's side. "Show her the plan, Dad."
Tom pulled up a new screen. "I can destroy the whole program. Make it look like a virus—random malware that corrupted her system. She won't know who to blame."
The room went quiet. Everyone looked at Cara.
She understood why. This was her future at stake. Her decision to make. If something went wrong, if Blaire figured out who was responsible, Cara would be the one who paid the price.
"If we do this," Reagan said carefully, "there's no taking it back. Blaire loses her hunting program."
"She already knows someone's after her," Cara said. "The fake FBI investigation. The brake lines."
"This will make it worse," Wade said. "Cornered animals are dangerous."
Cara stared at the screen. At her own face in Blaire's files. At the words maximum extraction and high-value target.
Tom turned to his keyboard. "This will take about twenty minutes. I need to make sure the virus signature looks authentic, not targeted."
"What happens when it hits?" Piper asked.
"Huntress crashes. This won’t delete any files she’s got. I’d bet good money she’s got all her records backed up." Tom's fingers flew across the keys. "What we will do is stop her from being able to identify any new targets."
"Do it," she said. "Destroy the program."
Cara watched him work, her heart pounding.
The team waited in tense silence. Piper chewed her pen cap. Reagan straightened coffee cups. Wade stood motionless by the door, watching Tom's screens like he could will the code to work faster.
"Done," Tom said finally. "Virus is deployed.”
Wade frowned. “But this MT dude could write more code.”
“Eventually,” Tom agreed. “Problem for another day.”
“Exactly,” Cara added quickly. Once they made sure Blaire was out of commission, they’d figure out a way to point the authorities in this MT’s direction.
Tom’s monitors reflected in Reagan’s wide eyes. “So now we wait."
On one of his monitors, a progress bar crept forward. Cara couldn't look away.
Sixty percent. Seventy. Eighty.
"Her system's fighting it," Tom muttered. "She's got seriously good security."
Piper scoffed. “So what? You’re better, dad.”
Tom grinned, clearly pleased. “Yeah. I am baby girl.”
Ninety percent.
Ninety-five.
The screen flashed red, then went black.
"Huntress is down." Tom leaned back in his chair. "It's over."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Piper let out a whoop. "We did it! We actually—"
Cara's phone buzzed.
Then again. And again.
She looked at the screen. Blaire.
Something's wrong with my system.
Did you do this?
Meet me. Now. The parking lot behind the hardware store on Fifth. 20 minutes.
"That was fast," Reagan said grimly.
Another text:
Don't make me come find you, Cara.
No emojis. No performed sweetness. Just cold demand.
"She thinks you did it," Wade said.
"She doesn't know what to think." Cara stared at the messages. "She's scared and angry and she needs someone to blame."
"You can't meet her," Piper said. "Not alone. Not at night in some parking lot."
"I have to." Cara was already reaching for her jacket. "If I don't show up, she'll be certain I'm behind this. At least if I go, I can play innocent. Act just as confused as she is."
"It's a risk," Reagan said.
"Everything's a risk." Cara met her eyes. "But we just destroyed her weapon. She's got nothing left but suspicion. If I can sell this, convince her I'm not her enemy... I can still work this con."
"Then maybe she'll focus on finding whoever she thinks really did it," Tom finished.
Wade straightened from the wall. "I'm coming with you."
"She said alone."
"I'll stay out of sight. But I'm not letting you walk into a dark parking lot by yourself."
Cara wanted to argue. Didn't have the energy. "Fine. But stay hidden."
She typed a reply to Blaire:
On my way.
No explanation. No protest. Just compliance. That's what an innocent person would do.
"Be careful," Piper said quietly. "She's not going to be nice."
Cara managed a thin smile. "She's never nice. That's what the emojis are for."
She headed up the stairs, Wade's footsteps silent behind her. At the top, she paused by the photo wall one more time. Tom and Piper through the years. A family built from whatever pieces were left.
She wanted that. A future. A family. A life that wasn't defined by running and hiding and fear.
Tonight, she'd find out if that was still possible.