Page 131 of Lethal Danger

“Yes.” Cora smiled. “All the verses in the stack.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to have God’s Word hidden in my heart, so that I know what is true and what is not. So that I have His comfort and promises with me wherever I go. I never want to forget that He loves me or forget the proof that He loves me.”

The proof that He loves me. It sounded like the way a woman talked about the man she loved. Cora was married, and her husband, Kent, clearly adored her. But she still wanted to believe that a distant, probably made-up being loved her? Seemed weird when she had the real, sure love of a man she could see and touch.

“Here’s another favorite of mine.” She pulled the next card out of the pile and read from it. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”

“Is that talking about Jesus?”

“Yes, it is.” Cora set the card on the desk and angled her blue eyes up at Jazz. “Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who died on the cross to pay the penalty for the sins of His children and give them everlasting life with Him.”

“Is that what Christians believe?” Jazz hadn’t heard it put quite like that before. Never really heard an explanation at all.

Cora nodded. “It’s why we follow Christ. Because He redeemed us, and we belong to Him.”

That must be what Hawthorne believed, too. Would that keep him from wanting to be with Jazz, like Nev had said? Only one way to find out. Cora would never give a misleading answer for personal reasons.

“Is it true Christians aren’t supposed to marry someone who doesn’t believe the same as they do?”

Cora pressed her lips together in a thoughtful expression. “If you mean that the other person is not a Christian then, yes, that is true. God directs us in His Word that we should not be unequally yoked, not bound to an unbeliever.”

Then Nev hadn’t made that up to get Jazz to stop liking Hawthorne. Jazz started around the desk.

“Jazz?” Cora’s voice stopped her again. “Phoenix doesn’t believe Gary Ackerman had anything to do with the attacks on you.”

For once, Jazz agreed with Phoenix on something.

“We’re still trying to find a possible motive or likely suspect. Do you know much about your father’s military service in Iraq?”

Jazz shrugged. “He won some medals, so I guess he did all right. Didn’t you say his record was impeccable?”

“Yes, it seems to be.” Cora folded her arms over each other on the desk. “However, there is one incident Phoenix wanted me to look into more deeply. I feel I should warn you that what I find could be…difficult.”

Jazz stepped closer to the desk from the front side as her stomach clenched. “What do you mean? What is it?”

Cora straightened. “I don’t want to give details until I’m sure of the facts. Speculation is never a good idea. Phoenix likely wouldn’t want me to say anything yet. I’m waiting to hear from her Army contact, who I hope will give me the details I need to know the truth.”

Great. More of Phoenix’s ideas and orders. “Fine. Maybe I’ll be gone by then anyway.”

“I did find some concrete information that I wonder if you’d like to know.” The hesitation in Cora’s tone added a twist to Jazz’s stomach. “It concerns your mother.”

Jazz stopped breathing. Had Cora found her?

“I know this is an understandably painful area for you. I will keep what I learned private and not share it with you unless you want to hear it. But you may want to know this.”

Jazz forced herself to breathe. She could handle it, couldn’t she? She had a man who liked her, maybe loved her. And she had a supportive uncle who seemed ready to be a better father to her than her real dad had been. They could help her through meeting her mother or learning she was a homeless drug addict. Whatever it was. “Go ahead. Tell me what you found.”

Sympathy pooled as unshed tears in Cora’s eyes. The first sign Jazz should’ve said no. “I’m sorry, Jazz. Your mother passed away ten years ago.”

Thirty-Seven

Maybe Jazz shouldn’t have gone ahead with these interviews of Best Life cult members. Her mind was only somewhat present for most of them, her attention occupied by the news Cora had given her.

Her mother had been dead for ten years. Which meant that for twenty years of Jazz’s life, her mother still hadn’t wanted her. Hadn’t even wanted to meet her.

The old, deep wound of the rejection she’d received at birth seared as if it’d been sliced open again.

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