Calling the police meant questions. Fingerprints. ID checks. If they dug deep enough, they might find Carly Reid. Find the fugitive con woman playing small-town baker.
Nope. She couldn't call them.
"Cara."
She jolted so hard the phone flew from her hand, landing in a pile of flour.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Gabe Sawyer stood in the doorway, breath fogging in the cold morning air, his sharp gaze on her. “You good?”
At her nod, he drew his weapon. "Stay here until I clear the scene."
She froze as he headed back up the stairs, boots crunching over broken glass.
He reappeared thirty seconds later, holstering his Glock. "You can come back up. It’s clear."
Cara couldn't make her voice work. Luckily her legs did. Just barely. Knees quaking, she followed him back up to the main level.
Gabe stepped over a broken container of cinnamon sticks and searched through the wreckage until he found an intact mug. Then an untouched box of tea bags. He boiled water in a salvaged saucepan and handed her the cup.
"Drink."
She wrapped both hands around it. The warmth helped. Her fingers were still trembling.
Gabe crouched beside the footprints in the flour. Touched the edge of one tread.
"Two men. Heavy boots." He looked up at her. "Same pattern as at the Sea Breeze."
Her chest constricted.
He stood, scanning the destruction with professional detachment. He gestured to the wall next to her ovens. Someone had even pried the covers off the outlet plates. “Whatever they’re searching for, they’re serious about it.”
Cara cringed. She didn’t even want to know what the tidy restroom must look like now. "I don't have anything." The words came out raw.
"They think you do." His voice stayed level. Certain. "They want Ruiz's notebook. And whatever else they think you took."
"I gave you the notebook."
"They don't know that."
The destruction felt like a punch in the face. Six months of work to get the bakery up and running again. The first legitimate thing she'd worked in her entire adult life. Reduced to sticky chaos and flour-coated wreckage.
"Were you working with Ruiz?" Gabe's question cut through her spiraling thoughts.
"What? No." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I onlymet him that one time. And I never met your brother. If I had anything that could help you, I would tell you."
He studied her for a long moment. Not believing. Not disbelieving. Uncertain.
That was almost worse.
"Looks like you’re shut down for a while," he said finally.
Her throat closed. She looked at the industrial mixer, face plate ripped off and delicate electronics yanked out. The open refrigerator, contents spoiling. The ruined ingredients coating every surface.
"I'll tell Piper not to come in." Her voice cracked.
"You want me to call Chief Hale?"
