Page 18 of Crosscurrent

She breathed once. The smallest replacement of air. In. Out. “He saved me. A long time ago.”

Cara watched her not cry. Watched her not turn her head. Watched her, in fact, do nothing visible at all.

The woman set the shortbread down on a clean spot on the counter. Agent eyed it disinterestedly.

Gabe lowered his weapon a little. “You were there, when he went over?”

“No.” The woman shook her head hard. “After. When the men came for me. I-I saw him. Down there. But it wasn’t me. I’d never hurt Ray. He kept me safe.”

Gabe shot Cara a look that said he wasn’t yet sure what to make of this, and until he was, she’d be staying behind him. Cara nodded slightly.

The woman uncrossed her legs and slid off the counter. Gabe pushed Cara behind him. “Whoa there. Hands up,” he ordered.

She complied, instantly. “Sorry.” She backed into the counter. “I’m Skye. You probably know that already from the studio, but anyway, the name is Skye Reeves.”

Cara smiled gently. She couldn’t help it, Skye seemed so odd. And so torn up about the man’s death. Most people wouldn’t have picked up on that, but Cara was hardly most people. “Cara Sweet.” She introduced herself. “And this is Gabe Sawyer.”

“The chief. I know.”

“Former chief,” he corrected.

The woman cocked her head, ignoring Gabe for Cara. “Cara Sweet. That’s mostly true.”

Cara’s hand on the boning knife tightened for half a beat.

“Don’t worry. I don’t know your real name,” Skye said. “I’m not a busybody. I just recognize the signs. Mostly everyone in town’s got the same story.”

“So Skye Reeves isn’t your real name, either,” Gabe said.

Skye shrugged. “It’s real now.” She pointed at the USB drive. “There’s info on here that will corroborate what I need to tell you.”

Cara looked at Gabe.

Gabe looked back. They had three or four full conversations in the silence. None of them needing actual words.

“Wake the team,” he said.

Cara nodded.

“Could I have some tea?” Skye asked.

Cara, who had been reaching for her phone, looked at her.

“Herbal,” Skye added. “Chamomile if you’ve got it. It’s been…a night.”

She caught Cara’s expression and added, the smallest dry note in her voice, “It’s a habit. Food, water, shelter, in that order. We’re going to be at this a while. It pays to be prepared.”

Words Cara lived by as well. She pulled out her phone.

7

Given the hour, the team assembled downstairs with impressive speed and wildly uneven levels of consciousness.

Tom arrived first. That tracked. “Piper’s still in the truck,” he muttered, his voice still thick with sleep.

Gabe tossed him the thumb drive. “Need you to boot this.”

That woke Tom far faster than a triple espresso.