Chapter 32
Cara slid into a back booth at the diner, cracked vinyl squeaking under her, and tried to remember the last time she'd sat somewhere without calculating the exits.
The lunch rush was winding down. A couple of fishermen argued quietly at the counter.
Old Mr. Hendricks nursed his eternal decaf by the window. Normal. Completely, maddeningly normal.
Gabe had called an hour ago. "We need to talk. Somewhere neutral." His voice had been careful, controlled—the voice of a cop, not a friend.
He walked in two minutes later. Out of uniform—jeans, a gray henley that did unfair things to his shoulders, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. He spotted her immediately, hesitated for just a moment, then crossed to her booth.
"Thanks for meeting me." He slid in across from her.
"You said it was important."
Reagan appeared at the table like she'd materialized from thin air. "Coffee?"
"Please." Gabe managed a tired smile. "Black."
"Cara? Refill?"
"I'm fine."
Reagan's eyes flicked between them. She disappeared to get Gabe's coffee but didn't go far. Cara could see her hovering near the counter, watching.
Gabe noticed too. His eyes tracked Reagan's movements, then returned to Cara. Something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment of the triangle they'd found themselves in. Gabe knowing Reagan was part of Cara's team. Reagan knowing Gabe knew. Nobody saying it out loud.
"How are you feeling?" Gabe asked quietly. "Your throat..."
Cara's hand drifted to her neck, where the bruises still throbbed beneath the silk scarf she'd used to cover them. "I'll live."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's the answer you're getting."
He nodded slowly. Reagan delivered his coffee, shot Cara a meaningful look, and retreated to hover at a slightly greater distance.
"Thorne's still out there," Gabe said. "We've got people looking, but he's gone to ground. Could be anywhere."
"I know."
"Which means you need to be careful. Stay visible. Stay around people. Don't go anywhere alone until we find him."
"I wasn't planning on it."
Gabe wrapped his hands around the coffee mug, staring into it like it held answers. "I also need to ask... your crew. Whatever you've been doing to fight back against Blaire. How's that going?"
Cara weighed her options. Lies, partial truths, deflection. She was tired of all of them.
"We've slowed her down," she said finally. "Maybe stopped her. But building a legal case? Something that would actually stick?" She shook her head. "Not yet."
"And now she knows you've been working against her."
It wasn't a question. Of course Gabe had figured that out.
"She called me this morning. Gave me until midnight to enjoy my last day of normal life."
Gabe's jaw tightened. "She threatened you."
"Not a threat. A promise." Cara met his eyes. "She's going to tell you everything she has on me. The inheritance questions, the identity gaps. Wants you to run me through your databases. See what comes up."
The silence stretched between them. Outside, a truck rumbled past. Inside, the fishermen laughed at some joke. Normal life, continuing on, oblivious.
"Cara." Gabe's voice was careful. "Whatever she has on you—"
"It's enough." She cut him off. "It's enough to destroy everything I've built here. Everything I've become."
"You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do." She leaned forward, urgency bleeding through despite her best efforts. "You're a good man, Gabe. You believe in the law, in justice, in doing the right thing. And when you find out what I've done—what I really am—you're not going to be able to look past it."
"You don't get to decide that for me."
"I'm not deciding anything. I'm just... preparing you."
Reagan appeared again, refilling Gabe's untouched coffee. Her presence was a reminder—you're not alone, even when it feels like it. Cara appreciated that more than she could say.
Gabe waited until Reagan retreated before speaking again. "I need you to back off. Whatever you and the guys are planning—put it on hold. Just until we find Thorne."
"If I back off, Blaire destroys me anyway."
"If you don't back off, you might get hurt. Or worse." His voice hardened. "Blaire's being squeezed from all sides. She's going to explode. And I don't want you anywhere near when she does."
"So what's your solution? I just wait? Let her burn my life down while I smile and bake croissants?"
"My solution is you let me handle it. Let me find Thorne, let me deal with Blaire, let me—"
"Protect me?" Cara laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Gabe, you can't save me from this. No one can."
"I’m not willing to believe that.” He sat back, smiling wanly. “Besides, it’s not like you can stop me."
The words hung between them, raw and honest in a way that made her chest ache.
"I know you. I know what you believe in." She held his gaze. "The law and I have a complicated history. When you find out how complicated... you'll have to choose. And we both know what you'll choose."
Before he could respond, his radio crackled.
Ellie's voice, tinny but clear: "Chief, I found him. Old fishing shack off Cutter's Point. Plate matches."
Gabe's eyes stayed locked on Cara's for one long moment. Then he grabbed the radio.
"Maintain distance. I'm on my way."
He stood, pulled out his wallet, dropped a ten on the table.
"This conversation isn't over."
"Gabe—"
"Midnight, you said. That gives us time." He held her gaze. "Don't do anything stupid before I get back."
Then he was gone, the bell over the door chiming his exit.
Cara sat alone in the booth, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on her chest. Through the window, she watched his truck pull out of the lot, heading toward the coast road. Toward Thorne. Toward answers that wouldn't help her.
Reagan slid into the seat Gabe had vacated. She didn't say anything. Didn't ask questions. Just sat there, solid and present, while Cara tried to remember how to breathe.
"He cares about you," Reagan finally said.
"I know."
"He's also a cop."
"I know that too."
Reagan nodded slowly. "So what are you going to do?"
Cara stared at the door Gabe had walked through. At the empty parking spot where his SUV had been.
"I don't know." She pressed her palms flat against the table, grounding herself. "Wait for midnight, I guess. See if Tom can work a miracle."
"And if he can't?"
Cara didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because if Tom couldn't find a way to stop Blaire, then by this time tomorrow, Cara Sweet would cease to exist.
And Carly Reid would have nowhere left to hide.