Cara's eyes widened. "So Ruiz found something there."
"Or someone." Gabe closed the notebook. "A meeting place. A handoff point. Something tied to whatever David was investigating."
Wind buffeted the SUV, rocking it gently on its suspension. The coast stretched out before them, gray and restless, hiding too many secrets in the mist.
Gabe stared at the notebook in his hands and felt the weight of it—the promises it held and the dangers it represented.
He could call Morrison right now and hand this over to the local field office, let proper channels take over with warrants and surveillance teams and all the resources the Bureau could bring to bear.
It was the smart play. The by-the-book play.
It was also the play that would take days, maybe weeks. Time David might not have.
He'd spent twelve years following orders, trusting the system, playing by rules designed to protect the innocent and ensure justice. But his brother was out there somewhere, possibly hurt, possibly running out of time. Every hour Gabe spent doing things the right way was an hour David might not have.
The frustration burned hot in his chest. He wanted to put his fist through something, wanted to grab the men watching them and shake answers loose, wanted to tear this whole conspiracy apart with his bare hands until he found his brother.
But violence wouldn't help. Strategy would. He needed to make the right moves at the right times, even when every instinct screamed to move faster.
Cara was watching him. He could feel her gaze, careful and assessing, like she could read the war happening inside him.
"We check the annex," he said finally.
She nodded, but not before he caught the flicker of something cross her face—worry, maybe, or the weight of understanding exactly what they were walking into.
Gabe started the engine and pulled back onto the road. Somewhere in this town, people were hiding something worth killing a private investigator over, and kidnapping—or killing—a journalist.
He had to operate on the assumption that every choice he made brought him closer to bringing his brother home. The alternative was unthinkable.
The church annex waited somewhere ahead, quiet and unguarded, holding answers someone had worked very hardto keep buried. They were done stumbling in the dark, done being watched and managed and herded away from the truth.
Time to start asking the right questions, even if the answers came with a price he wasn't ready to pay.
19
The dark sedansat three spaces down from the church entrance, same make and tinted windows as the vehicle that had followed them from the overlook.
Cara's stomach clenched as Gabe pulled into the gravel lot. "You see it?"
"Yeah." Gabe's hands tightened on the wheel.
He parked facing the exit and left the engine running for three long seconds before cutting it. His eyes tracked the sedan in the rearview mirror.
No movement. No one visible inside.
Could be nothing. Could be someone visiting the church office. Could be a volunteer arriving early for the food pantry shift.
Or it could be the men who'd trashed her bakery.
Cara forced herself to breathe. "We don't have to do this now."
"We do." Gabe's jaw worked. "If they're watching us search, that means we're close to something they don't want found."
He was right. She hated that he was right.
They climbed out. Cold salt air mixed with the scent of wet cedar drifting from the church's open side door. Somewhere inside, a child laughed. A door closed. The sounds should have steadied her, these ordinary Saturday morning rhythms she'd grown to depend on.
They didn't.
