Chapter 30
The Haven Cove Inn looked different at nine o'clock at night.
Gabe pulled into the half full parking lot, his best officer, Ellie Torres, in the passenger seat. The fog had thickened since he'd left Cara with the responding officers, turning the inn's exterior lights into fuzzy halos that barely cut through the gray.
"How do you want to play this?" Ellie asked. "Straight warning, or do we push for information?"
"Warning first. See how she reacts." Gabe killed the engine. "She's a professional. She'll know we're fishing if we come in too hard."
"And if she's hiding something?"
"Then we watch her hide it and figure out why later."
Ellie side eyed him. She'd been giving him those glances since she arrived at the hardware store parking lot.
They walked through the lobby, past the half-asleep desk clerk who barely looked up from his phone, and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Gabe knocked firmly.
Silence. Then shuffling. A light clicked on, visible under the door.
"Who is it?" Blaire's voice was muffled, wary.
"Chief Sawyer. Haven Cove Police. I need to speak with you."
A pause. The sound of a chain sliding. The door opened six inches, Blaire's face appearing in the gap—no makeup, hair disheveled, eyes sharp despite the hour.
"Gabe. This is unexpected." Her gaze flicked to Ellie, assessing. "What's going on?"
"Can we come in? This shouldn't wait."
Another pause. Then the chain dropped and the door swung open.
The room was standard inn fare—floral bedspread, dated furniture, a suitcase open on the luggage rack. But Gabe noticed the laptop on the desk, still glowing. The phone charging on the nightstand. Blaire Mitchell didn't fully unplug, even at night.
Blaire pulled her silk robe tighter. The expensive fabric did nothing to hide the dark circles beneath her eyes, or the bruises still mottling her cheek and jaw. She looked smaller without her Instagram armor. More human.
Her eyes narrowed. "What's this about? Did you find the person who cut my brakes?"
"We’re making progress. But I have new information you need to hear." Gabe strode to the center of the room, crowding Blaire as much as he dared. Ellie positioned herself near the door—not blocking it, but present. Watchful.
Gabe let a silence settle between them, priming the moment. "Do you know a man named Michael Thorne?"
Something flickered across Blaire's face. Fast. Controlled. But he caught it.
"Thorne?" She tilted her head, frowning slightly. "I don't think so. Should I?"
A lie. Gabe was certain of it. But he pressed forward. "He's been staying in Haven Cove for about a week. Forties, dark hair, nervous demeanor. Drives a rental car with Oregon plates."
Blaire shook her head slowly. "Doesn't ring a bell. Why? Is he the one who cut my brakes?"
"He's a person of interest. And about an hour ago, he attacked Cara Sweet in a parking lot behind the hardware store on Fifth."
Blaire's hand went to her throat.
"I know you met with her tonight," Gabe continued. "In that same parking lot. You left seconds before the attack."
Blaire's expression flickered—surprise that he knew, quickly masked. "How did you—"
"Doesn't matter. What matters is that Thorne was waiting." Gabe held her gaze. "We think in the dark he mistook Cara for you."
Blaire processed this in silence. "So he's still coming." Her voice lost its sleepy softness. She was fully alert now. "The brakes didn't work, so he tried again. And he got the wrong woman."
"That's our working theory."
"Is Cara okay?" The question came out flat. Perfunctory. Her mind was clearly elsewhere—calculating, connecting dots.
"She'll recover."
"Good." Blaire pressed a hand to her chest, but the gesture felt hollow. Performative. Then her eyes narrowed. "Wait. How did he know I'd be there? That parking lot, that time?" She looked up at Gabe sharply. "I didn't tell anyone about that meeting."
Gabe kept his expression neutral. "That's something we're looking into."
But he could see Blaire arriving at her own answer. The only person who knew about that meeting was Cara, who’d also been at the scene when her brake lines were cut.
Blaire's jaw tightened. Something cold crept into her expression.
From the way Ellie stiffened, she caught it, too. Gabe turned his attention back to Blaire. "Do you have any idea why Michael Thorne would want you dead?"
Her smile was thin. Bitter. "I locate people for a living. Some of them don't want to be found. Business is excellent. There’s a long list."
Especially when she was probably extorting money from most of them. "Anyone specific?"
"No one comes to mind." Another lie. "But clearly someone has a grudge. Someone persistent." She touched her bruised face. "First the brakes. Now this."
Gabe let the silence stretch. Watched her process.
She wasn't just frightened. She was furious. And that fury was aimed somewhere specific—he just couldn't see where yet.
"We're pursuing all leads," Gabe said carefully. "In the meantime, lock your door. Don't go anywhere alone. And call me if you see anything suspicious."
"Count on it." Blaire took his card, though they both knew she already had his number.
They moved toward the door. Gabe paused, turned back. Her flip attitude had gotten on his last nerve, but he kept his voice even. Professional. "I know what you've been doing to Cara."
Blaire went still.
"You implied as much at the diner. And I've seen enough to fill in the blanks." He held her gaze. "Whatever you have on her, whatever you've been leveraging—it ends. Now. Someone just tried to kill you twice. Maybe that's a sign to rethink your business model."
Blaire's smile was thin. Bitter. "Is that a threat? Because last time you tried that, it didn't work out so well for either of us."
"It's advice. From someone who's about to have a lot more questions about your operation." He let that land.
Something flickered in her expression. Fear, maybe. Or calculation.
"I'll take that under advisement." Her voice was ice.
They left her standing by the bed, bruised and calculating, already planning her next move.
Gabe and Ellie walked to the stairs in silence.
"Okay." Ellie's voice was carefully controlled. "What was that?"
Gabe stalked on toward the SUV.
"She knows Cara. That's not news—everyone in Haven Cove knows Cara." Ellie fell into step beside him. "But that wasn't 'I know the local baker.' That was something else entirely. And you know it."
Gabe unlocked the vehicle.
"Chief." Ellie planted herself by the passenger door, arms crossed. "I just watched you dance around a witness like you were protecting someone. And I'm pretty sure that someone is Cara Sweet."
"It's complicated."
"Clearly." Ellie's dark eyes were sharp, concerned. "Blaire Mitchell is blackmailing her, isn't she? That's what this is about. That's why they were meeting in a deserted parking lot at eight o'clock at night."
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. Ellie was too observant. It was what made her an excellent cop and a terrible person to try to keep secrets from.
"I can't discuss an ongoing investigation."
"Hello? I work for you. Yes, you can. But I get it.
That's not a no." Ellie's voice softened.
"Look, I'm not trying to jam you up. But you showing up that parking lot in time to chase Thorne off wasn’t coincidence.
You knew she was there. And just now, in there—you were protecting her from Blaire's accusations before Blaire even finished making them. "
She paused. Let the silence stretch.
"There's something going on between you two. And whatever it is, it's got you twisted up good."
Gabe finally met her eyes. Ellie Torres—sharp, capable, too talented for this small town. She'd come to Haven Cove to heal after her mother's death, but she wouldn't stay forever. Couldn't stay forever. She was destined for bigger things.
She was a trusted member of his department. And she deserved something. "Blaire is blackmailing Cara. Over the bakery inheritance. There are... irregularities. Things Blaire found."
"And you're protecting Cara anyway."
He opened his door. "My priority is catching whoever cut Blaire’s brake lines and attacked Cara. Everything else can wait."
Ellie studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly and climbed into the vehicle.
"She's hiding something," Ellie said as he started the engine. "Cara, I mean. Blaire practically spelled it out."
"I know."
"And you don't care?"
Gabe pulled out of the lot, fog swallowing the inn behind them.
"I care," he said quietly. "I just don't think whatever she's hiding makes her a bad person. And I don't think it has anything to do with attempted murder."
"You hope."
"Yeah." He stared at the road ahead, gray and uncertain. "I hope."