Page 85 of Undertow

Diane put her hand on Wade’s arm. Pastor Ben smiled into his soup. Tom pulled Reagan closer by the shoulder and said nothing.

Agent jumped onto the counter, because important moments required feline supervision. Cara scratched behind his ears and looked out at the room full of people she’d built a life around without meaning to, the life that had started as a cover story and become the realest thing she’d ever had.

46

That was when the black vehicle rolled up, dwarfing Piper's little sedan.

Not a car. A limo. Long, dark, windows blacked out, the kind of vehicle that had no business on a street in Haven Cove, Oregon. A uniformed driver stepped out, walked around, and opened the rear door. The blacked-out windows gave up nothing.

Wade stiffened. Gabe shot to his feet.

Piper squinted through the window. Then she squealed. "Guys! It's Elena!"

Elena stepped out of the limo, and for a second Cara almost didn't recognize her.

Not Pacific-Crest good. Not borrowed-armor good. Actually great. Color in her face. Shoulders back. Eyes clear. She was wearing her own clothes for the first time since Cara had met her — something cream and quietly expensive, the kind of outfit that didn't need to announce itself. She looked like a woman who had remembered what she was worth.

The driver closed the door behind her and stepped back. Elena crossed the sidewalk and climbed the bakery steps the way someone climbs steps when they know the room will wait for them.

The bell over the door chimed.

Piper got there first — of course she did — and folded Elena into a hug. "You came back."

Elena laughed out loud against her shoulder. "Hi, sweetheart."

Next, Tom got a hug. Then Reagan, who held on a beat longer than anyone expected. Wade got the half-hug and acknowledging nod of two people who didn't need to spell it out. Gabe got a hand on his sleeve and a quiet "Thank you" that he answered with a small shake of his head.

Then Elena turned to Cara.

She didn't hug her. Not yet. She crossed the bakery floor and stopped in front of her. Cara had the strange sense of watching Elena step out of the role she'd been carrying for the past week and into the role of someone who had walked in here on purpose, with a plan.

"I came to make you an offer," Elena said.

Cara crossed her arms. "Elena —"

"Hear me out." A small smile, unhurried. "I've been working on this since yesterday morning, and I'd like to get the whole thing out before you talk me down."

Cara closed her mouth.

Elena took a slow look around the bakery — at the team, at the tears mostly dried, at the Honda with the bow still parked at the curb, at the cat, who had reappeared from somewhere and was now weaving between chair legs as if he'd planned the entire evening himself.

She came back to Cara. Took a small breath. "I want to sponsor your agency."

Piper's mouth dropped open. Tom's arm dropped from the back of Reagan's chair. Wade set his coffee down.

“We don’t have an agency,” Cara said.

“You do now.” Elena tucked a hank of honey blonde hair behind her ear.

“When I was at my lowest—when I couldn’t access my money, my name, anything—the only reason I survived was because strangers with huge hearts showed up.” She gestured at the group. “I want you out there doing that for other people.”

“Elena, we work under the radar,” Cara said carefully. “We’re not licensed. We’re not official. We’re not⁠—”

“I’m aware. You’re exactly what I want.” Elena’s voice was firm. “People with no obligations, no ties. Just faith and strong hearts who want to do good in the world.” She leaned forward. “My financial people are drawing up papers. A nonprofit foundation. It funds you—all of you—to take on whatever cases you want. To do good work.”

“Well,” Reagan said finally. “We’re going to need a name.”

Tom leaned back in his chair. “Haven Cove Investigative Services.”