Chapter 42
The kitchen door swung shut behind them, cutting off the afternoon light.
Cara's hands trembled as she walked deeper into the room, away from the ovens, away from the back door, away from any hope of escape. Jessica followed, moving with the calm efficiency of someone who'd thought through every variable.
"Stop there." Jessica's voice was quiet. Controlled. "Turn around."
Cara turned.
Jessica stood between her and both exits—the door to the bakery, the door to the alley. The gun stayed low but present, a constant reminder of who held the power here.
"Relax." Jessica's mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "If I wanted you dead, that would have already happened."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want you to understand."
Cara stared at her—at the woman she'd dismissed as too broken to fight back, too shattered by grief to be a threat. The curly dark wig. The glasses. The artist's costume she'd worn for days, hiding in plain sight.
"You've been here the whole time," Cara said. "Watching us."
"It's amazing what people don't see when they're not looking." Jessica tilted her head. "You walked past me three times this week. Never even glanced twice."
Cara's stomach turned. She'd been so focused on the threat out there—somewhere in Portland, somewhere on the run—that she'd never considered the threat might be right here, ordering coffee and complimenting the croissants.
“You killed her.”
Jessica nodded. “I wasn’t sure I could go through with it. That’s why I tried the brake lines. Not so…intimate, you know?” She paused, biting her lower lip. “I’ve been planning this a long time. I didn’t expect to get cold feet. So then I figured maybe I could get someone else to actually do it.”
“Thorne.”
She winced, her eyes moving to Cara’s bruised throat. “Sorry about that. Anyway, when that didn’t work out, I knew I just had to get it done. For my brother. For all of you.” She threw back her shoulders. “So I did.”
"Why?" The word came out hoarse. "Why stay? You could have been gone. You could have disappeared."
"I wasn't finished."
Jessica reached into her canvas bag. Cara tensed, but what emerged was a small USB drive.
"I spent two days going through Blaire's files," Jessica said. "Every backup. Every cloud copy. Every encrypted drive she thought no one would find."
She handed the drive to Cara.
"I destroyed all of it,” Jessica insisted. “Every file. Her victims are free now. I’ll make sure they all know it once I’m safe."
Cara held up the drive. "Then what's this?"
Jessica's eyes held hers. "I kept your file separate. I thought you deserved to see what she had on you. How close she got."
"Why?"
"Because I know what it's like to wonder. To lie awake imagining the worst. You can see for yourself. And then you can decide what to do with it."
Cara said nothing. There was nothing to say. She tucked the drive into her pants pocket.
"You're not a predator," Jessica continued. "You're prey. Like my brother was. Like all of Blaire's victims."
The gun lowered slightly. Jessica's posture shifted, some of the tension bleeding out of her shoulders.
"I need you to understand," she said quietly. "I need someone to know why I did it."
Jessica straightened, tucking the gun back into her canvas bag. Then she reached in again and produced a length of zip ties, holding them up with something that might have been an apologetic look under different circumstances.
"I'm sorry about this part."
Cara looked at the zip ties. Looked at Jessica. "You're kidding."
"I need a head start." Jessica's voice was matter-of-fact, almost gentle. "Sit down. Please."
It wasn't really a request. Cara sat at her desk.
Jessica worked quickly and efficiently—wrists behind the chair back, not cruelly tight, the knot positioned where Cara could eventually work it loose if she was patient. Professional. Like she'd thought this through.
Jessica crouched slightly to meet her eyes. "Scream when I'm gone if you want. Or don't. That part's up to you." She straightened. "It's okay if you tell your Chief Sawyer I was here. By the time he initiates a search, I'll be long gone."
She moved toward the back door, then paused without turning around. "Your secret's safe with me. Live your life, Cara. The one Blaire almost took from you."
"Jessica."
The woman stopped, back to Cara.
"For what it's worth... I understand why you did it. I don't agree. But I understand."
Something shifted in Jessica's shoulders—not quite a flinch, not quite relief. She glanced back, and there was something almost like peace in her eyes.
"That's more than I expected," she said softly. "Thank you." She smiled sadly. "Maybe pray for me sometimes. I think I'm going to need it."
And then she was gone.
The door swung shut. The kitchen fell silent.
Cara sat alone, wrists bound, the USB drive a small warm weight against her hip, listening to the distant sound of a car engine fading into nothing.