Chapter Ten #2
Shade’s lawyer jerked upright. “Absolutely not. Sheriff, that question is out of line and my client is not answering that.”
But Shade did answer. His eyes sparked with something ugly. “I didn’t kill her,” Shade growled. “Lauren was already dying. And she deserved worse after what she did.”
Jessa froze. A cold pulse slid through her arms.
“What exactly do you think she did?” Deacon kept his tone flat.
Shade leaned back, the edge of a smirk twisting his mouth. “She was sleeping with that rancher. Clayton Hargrove. You know it. Everybody with half a brain knows it. And she killed him.”
“No,” Jessa whispered before she could stop herself. Her breath fogged the glass.
Shade kept on talking. “She murdered him, and you all helped her cover it up. Jessa. Roman. Even you, Sheriff. You’re all tangled up in it whether you admit it or not.”
“I arrested Lauren. I put her in cuffs. I treated her like any suspect.” Deacon’s voice dropped into something dark and lethal. “The case fell apart because the evidence against Roman and her was staged.”
Shade rolled his eyes as if Deacon were clueless. “Of course it was staged. But badly. Sloppy. It was the kind of setup Roman and Jessa would do to protect their precious mother. Their precious, lying mother.”
Jessa’s nails bit into her palms. She felt something twist in her chest, a hot coil of grief and rage.
“So you think Lauren killed Hargrove, and you think she dragged her children into covering it up,” Deacon came out and asked.
“I know she did,” Shade replied with a firm nod. “She played all of you. Right up until the end.”
Shade’s lawyer touched his arm, low and urgent. “Brett. Stop talking.”
But Shade didn’t stop. He yanked his arm away and kept right on, his voice rising with each word.
“Roman always thought he was better than everybody. Lauren treated him like he hung the fucking moon. And you,” he added with a sneer toward the mirror, as if he could see her standing there, “you were just the princess who got whatever she wanted.”
Jessa felt her pulse stutter.
The lawyer tried again. “Brett, you need to stop.”
Shade ignored him completely. “I don’t owe Roman anything. Not after what he’s done. We’ve had run-ins for years. He’s always acted like I’m dirt under his boots.”
Jessa had known there was history between Shade and Roman but not like this. Not this deep, festering resentment. And suddenly it hit her with cold clarity. Maybe Deacon wasn’t the target at all. Maybe the bullet that tore through her SUV was meant for her. Maybe the entire ambush was about her.
To punish Roman. To hurt him in the one place he couldn’t guard.
Shade kept talking, venom dripping from every word. “I wouldn’t lift a finger to help either of you. Not Roman. Not her.”
The lawyer finally slapped a hand on the table, glaring at Deacon. “This interview is over for now. I need time alone with my client.”
Shade opened his mouth as if he wanted to keep spewing poison, but the lawyer shot him a look that actually worked. Shade clamped his jaw shut.
Deacon stood. “Fine. I’ll give you a few minutes. “Interview paused.” He switched off the recorder, left the interview room, and stepped into observation with Jessa. His expression was hard, the kind he wore when he was trying to lock down anger.
“It’ll take a while,” he muttered. “The lawyer’s going to have to drag him down from whatever cliff he’s hanging off.”
Shade was pacing now inside the room, jabbing his finger at his lawyer, who was clearly trying to get him to sit.
Deacon exhaled and tilted his head toward the hallway. “Come on. Let’s regroup in my office.”
Jessa followed him down the corridor. Her chest still felt tight from everything Shade had thrown at them, at her. She pushed it down. Focus. Stay alert.
When they stepped inside Deacon’s office, she immediately saw Noah standing inside, waiting for them. He turned when they entered, his expression grim, his eyes sharp with questions Jessa wasn’t ready to face. Her pulse hitched before she could stop it.
“Deacon. Jessa.” Noah gave a tight nod. His voice was steady, but his tension was impossible to miss. “I’m sorry to barge in, but there’s something you need to see.”
She swallowed hard. Her palms felt too warm.
He lifted his phone and tapped the screen, turning it so they both could watch. It was footage from one of the exterior security cameras outside the Crossfire Ops compound. Grainy night vision. A quiet patch of woods. And a figure moving in it.
A hoodie. A mask. Gloves. Someone careful. Someone who knew exactly where the camera blind spots started and ended.
The figure hammered something into a tree. A board or maybe a sheet of metal. It was hard to tell from the angle. But when the person stepped back, the camera caught the words in stark, white paint.
Ask Jessa who her father is.
Her stomach dropped. Her breath froze.
The room felt smaller. Too warm. Too bright. Noah’s gaze stayed on her, steady and unblinking, and she felt pinned by it. Deacon didn’t say a word, didn’t move, but she could feel him there, bracing for the impact right along with her.
Noah lowered the phone slowly. “Jessa,” he said. “What is this supposed to mean?”
Her throat tightened. She tried to breathe, but everything inside her felt tangled, pulled in too many directions. She had avoided this moment for months. Told herself she needed time. Space. A plan. She’d convinced herself it was to protect Roman, to protect what little stability she had left.
The truth was simpler.
She hadn’t known how to look the man in the eye while carrying a secret that would change everything he believed about his past. But the words on that sign had torn away any illusion of control she had left.
Jessa lifted her chin, even though her voice felt trapped somewhere behind her ribs. “Noah, I’m your daughter.”