Chapter 28
The parking lot behind Henderson's Hardware was empty, lit only by a single flickering streetlamp that cast more shadows than light. Cara pulled her Subaru into a spot near the back and killed the engine.
Somewhere in the darkness, Wade was finding his position. He'd peeled off two blocks back, disappearing into the night like he'd been trained to do. She couldn't see him. That was the point.
Fog rolled in from the ocean, thick and cold, turning the streetlamp into a hazy orb. Cara pulled up her hood against the damp chill and waited.
Headlights swept across the lot.
A green sedan pulled in—rental plates, generic model.
Blaire parked directly under the streetlamp. A power move, Cara recognized. Controlling the light. Making sure she could see anyone who approached while keeping herself visible. Confident, even now.
Or performing confidence. Hard to tell the difference with Blaire.
Cara got out of her car and walked toward the light.
Blaire emerged from the rental looking nothing like the polished influencer who'd walked into Sugar & Salt two weeks ago.
No designer athleisure tonight. No perfect highlights catching the light.
She wore dark jeans and a plain black jacket, her hair stuffed under a dark beanie.
The bruises from the crash were still deep, lurid hues along her cheekbones and chin.
But her eyes were the same. Sharp. Calculating. Dangerous.
Blaire didn't bother with a greeting. "Someone destroyed my system tonight."
"What system? What are you talking about?"
"Don't." Blaire's voice was sharp as glass. "I'm not in the mood for games."
Cara let her genuine exhaustion show—that part wasn't hard. "You dragged me out of bed with cryptic texts demanding I meet you in a parking lot at ten o'clock at night. The least you could do is tell me why."
Blaire studied her, eyes narrowed. Looking for the lie.
Cara held her gaze and waited.
Blaire studied her for a long moment. The streetlamp buzzed and flickered overhead, casting strange shadows across her face.
"You really don't know," she said finally. Something shifted in her expression—not quite belief, but uncertainty. "Or you're a better liar than I thought."
"I'm not lying."
"Everyone lies." Blaire pushed off from the car, began pacing. "Someone's been targeting me for weeks. The fake FBI investigation. My brakes. Now this." She stopped, turned to face Cara. "And you're the only person in Haven Cove with a reason to want me gone."
"I'm also the person with the least ability to do any of that." Cara let frustration creep into her voice. "I run a bakery, Blaire. I make croissants. I don't know anything about hacking computer systems or cutting brake lines."
"Then who does?"
"I don't know!" The words came out louder than Cara intended. She took a breath, steadied herself. "Look, you came to me. You've been threatening me for weeks, demanding money I don't have. And now you're accusing me of—what? Some kind of cyber attack? I don't even know what that means."
Blaire's jaw tightened. For a moment, Cara thought she'd pushed too hard.
Then Blaire laughed. A short, bitter sound.
"You know what's funny? I actually believe you." She shook her head. "You're not capable of this."
The insult stung more than it should have.
"So if it wasn't me," Cara said carefully, "who was it?"
"That's what I'm going to figure out." Blaire resumed pacing, restless energy crackling off her like static.
Time to push a little harder. “So why tell me?”
“You’re part of my plan.” Blaire stopped pacing. Something flickered across her face—surprise, maybe. Like she hadn't expected pushback.
"You know what I think?" Blaire's voice dropped. "I think we have the same enemy. Someone who wants both of us gone. Someone who's been playing us against each other while they work in the shadows."
Cara's heart quickened, but she kept her expression skeptical. This was exactly what they'd hoped for. Blaire, scared and desperate, reaching out for an ally. Opening the door just wide enough for Cara to slip through.
"That doesn't make sense," Cara said slowly. "Why would anyone target me?"
"I don't know why. I just know what's happening.
" Blaire stepped closer, close enough that Cara could see the fear she was trying to hide beneath the aggression.
"My system is destroyed. Someone tried to kill me three days ago.
And you—" She jabbed a finger at Cara. "You're the perfect scapegoat. Easy to blame. Easy to frame."
Keep talking, Cara thought. Keep letting me in.
The irony wasn't lost on her. Two con artists, each thinking they were running the game. Each convinced the other was the mark.
The words landed like stones. Because there was truth in them, twisted though it was.
"What are you suggesting?" Cara asked.
"A truce." Blaire's eyes glittered in the flickering light.
"Like I told you at the lighthouse. We stop circling each other and figure out who's really behind this. Pool our information. Watch each other's backs. I don’t need your help with that stupid FBI stuff now, but you know this ridiculous town. Who’s new. Who talks to who. Stuff I can’t see. "
Now was the danger time. She couldn’t appear too eager to help the woman trying to destroy her. She needed to resist, but not enough for Blaire to get impatient or angry and withdraw her offer. "Wait, what? Two seconds ago you accused me of cyber-whatever. Why would I want to help you?"
"Because you want to make it through this, obvs." Blaire's mask slipped for just a moment, showing something raw underneath. Fear. Real fear. "Someone out there is working this. They’re clearly connected. And dangerous. Two against one is the way we win this."
Time to play it slow. Keep the tension humming. "Why would I trust you?" Cara asked quietly.
"You wouldn't. You shouldn't." Blaire's smile was thin. "But I'm all you got, girl."
The streetlamp flickered again, longer this time. Shadows jumped and danced across the empty lot.
Cara pretended to wrestle with Blaire’s offer. "Okay," she agreed, feigning serious reluctance. "A truce. But I want something in return."
Blaire smirked. "Of course, you do."
"No more blackmail. The fifty thousand dollars is off the table."
Blaire was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Fine. I don’t need the money anyway. But Cara—" Her voice hardened. "If I find out you're behind any of this, I’ll end you."
"Understood."
They stood in the flickering light, bound by mutual suspicion and shared fear.
"I'll be in touch," Blaire said. She turned back toward her rental car. "Watch yourself. Whoever's doing this isn't done yet."
Cara watched her go. The rental's engine started, headlights sweeping across the lot as Blaire pulled out and disappeared into the fog.
She stood alone in the darkness, heart pounding.
Now she needed to get the woman to trust her, just enough to reveal the kind of info Tom could use to prove Blaire’s crimes.
She headed toward her Subaru, parked at the far end of the lot. The fog had thickened while they talked, turning the world into gray cotton. Her footsteps echoed strangely on the wet asphalt.
She was halfway to her car when she heard it.
Footsteps behind her. Coming fast.
Cara spun—
A shape lunged out of the fog. Male. Dark hair. Eyes wild with something that looked like years of bottled fury.
She opened her mouth to scream, but his hand clamped over her face, shoving her backward. She hit the ground hard, asphalt biting into her palms, her hip, her shoulder.
He was on top of her before she could move. Hands around her throat. Squeezing.
Cara clawed at his face, his arms, anything she could reach. Prison had taught her to fight dirty. She jammed her thumb toward his eye, felt him flinch, and used the moment to twist sideways.
His grip loosened for half a second.
She screamed.
The sound tore through the fog, raw and desperate. She kicked out, connected with something solid, heard him grunt in pain.
But he was bigger. Stronger. And he wasn't stopping.
His hands found her throat again. Tighter this time. Stars exploded across her vision.
Lord, please—
The prayer fragmented as darkness crept in from the edges.