Page 51 of Fierce Hope
Because it could never happen. Deke still didn’t know everything about her past. In fact, he knew practically nothing. If he did, would he want her anywhere near DJ? The boy had already experienced one mother’s betrayal. How would Deke react to learning Jade had spent years helping her father con vulnerable people? And worse, that she’d been good at it?
“Ready to go?” Deke’s voice broke through her reverie as he approached.
“Almost,” she replied, sliding her laptop into its case. “Did your team spot anything interesting about Thurston?”
“Nothing yet, but they’ll keep digging. That reaction was ...” he trailed off, searching for the right word.
“Suspicious,” she supplied. “And strange, considering the storage issue is so minor.”
“Exactly.” Deke helped her gather the remaining papers. “What did Kent want? I saw him talking to you during the break.”
Jade recounted Kent’s odd quasi-apology. “It felt sincere, but cryptic. Like he knows something we don’t.”
“Or he’s positioning himself as the reasonable husband with the unstable wife,” Deke suggested, ever the detective. “Creating distance between himself and whatever Gillian’s done.”
Jade hadn’t considered that angle. “You think he could be involved?”
“I think nobody reacts that calmly to their spouse being arrested unless they were expecting it.” Deke’s expression was thoughtful. “And I think we should look more closely at that storage facility.”
As they headed back toward the office, Jade filled him in on Sarah’s revelation about Chad. The building was silent, except for the last few board members heading to their cars.
“So Chad had a connection to the church through Sarah,” Deke mused. “That explains how Gillian might have found him. But why target you specifically?”
“I keep coming back to that question,” Jade admitted. “I barely know Gillian. We’ve exchanged maybe ten sentences total since I started volunteering here.”
Deke set the files on the desk Jade used, stacking them with his typical precision. “Zara and Kenji will do their computer magic and dig into Thurston and the Wycoffs, but I also think we need to visit that storage facility,” Deke finally said. “Tomorrow, first thing.”
Jade nodded, but her mind had already drifted again—not to the case, but to the man standing before her. She could so easily lean into him, draw strength from his solid presence. But the same barriers remained—her past, his son, the professional boundaries still technically between them.
“What?” he asked, noticing her extended silence.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just ... thank you. For being here tonight.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” he replied, then caught himself. “I mean—professionally speaking.”
The qualifier hung between them, a reminder of all the things unsaid. Jade smiled sadly, knowing they were both playing the same game—pretending this was still just protection detail when it had clearly become something more.
She just wasn’t sure what that something was—or if it could survive the truth she’d eventually have to tell.
29
Someone’s hiding something.Thurston’s reaction was too strong for this to be nothing.
Jade studied the storage facility contract under the harsh fluorescent light of the church records room. Deke was clearly ready to leave, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this seemingly minor detail mattered more than anyone was admitting.
“We could continue this investigation tomorrow,” he suggested from the doorway, keys dangling from his fingers. “After we’ve both had dinner and some rest.”
She looked up, registering the fatigue around his eyes. “I just need fifteen minutes. There’s something about Thurston’s reaction that doesn’t sit right.”
Deke’s stomach growled audibly, and she suppressed a smile. He’d been patient through the two-hour board meeting after a full day at their headquarters. Still, he stepped into the small room and settled against a filing cabinet.
“Fifteen minutes,” he conceded. “Then food. Non-negotiable.”
The records room was barely large enough for the desk, computer, and wall of filing cabinets that housed the church’spaper history. Decades of financial records, meeting minutes, and correspondence filled labeled drawers, organized with the kind of meticulous care that spoke of someone’s loving attention—probably Mrs. Peterson, the church secretary who’d worked here since the Reagan administration.
Jade pulled out the drawer marked “Contracts/Vendors 2010-2021” and began rifling through the neatly arranged folders. If the church had been paying for storage all along, there should be a paper trail.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Deke asked, moving to examine the cabinet beside her.
