Page 56 of Fierce Hope
“Anyway,” Zara continued, oblivious to the silent exchange, “I’ve been digging deeper into Kent Wycoff since Thurston’s a dead end.”
“Anything?” Deke asked, forcing his attention back to the investigation.
Zara grimaced. “He’s mostly squeaky-clean on paper: successful attorney, active in local business circles, shows up in church donation records. But I did find something else.” She flipped to a different screen. “He’s been on and off the church board for about eight years. Then?—”
“Wait,” Kenji cut in, his keyboard clicking fast. “I just pulled up digital sign-in logs for that storage facility Jade flagged. After-hours access requires a passcode.” He tapped the display, and a name blinked up. “Look who accessed the unit two weeks ago—Kent Wycoff.”
“Are you serious?” Deke shot Jade another quick glance. “So he does know about the storage unit.”
“And lied in the board meeting, apparently,” Zara muttered.
A hush settled over them. From the gym beneath their feet came the rhythmic thud of dropped barbells, followed by muffled laughter—life going on as normal, while they uncovered more evidence of Wycoff’s involvement in something bigger.
“Options?” Deke asked, stepping forward.
Kenji shrugged. “Maybe it’s personal stash space. He might not want the church to know he’s been using or paying for it.Possibly he’s storing something he can’t keep at home. Plus, his wife looks way more culpable. There’s solid evidence showing she paid Chad to harass Jade.”
“Not that either of them have a clear motive,” Jade added.
Deke lifted a hand, half in thought. “Or, for the sake of argument, it’s legitimate church business that not everyone is aware of. But the only real way to confirm is to check it in person—once we have probable cause.” He paused, letting out a slow breath. “Jade?”
“Yes?” She sounded steadier than she had last night, but he could see the caution in her eyes.
“You’re the financial administrator. If this truly is a church-related lease, you might recognize something once we see what’s inside. Documents, items, equipment—anything that might not show in your official ledgers.”
She nodded, a flicker of unease crossing her face. “Right. That makes sense.”
Deke eyed her carefully. She’d insisted she was fine this morning—after they’d both woken up in her condo, exchanging stiff good mornings. He knew her mind was probably spinning. She’d told him so many vulnerable truths. Meanwhile, he was trying to reconcile the woman he admired with the baggage she carried. The father who’d used her as an accomplice, the guilt she still bore. He clenched his jaw, forcing the swirl of personal feelings aside. “So tomorrow morning, we head over there. Kenji,” he said, “I want you running digital surveillance from here. Zara, you’re backup on site. Axel and Ronan can coordinate with local PD, just in case.”
Kenji nodded and cast Jade an encouraging grin, though Jade only gave a wan half-smile. Before Deke could continue, Kenji opened another window on his screen, lines of financial data scrolling by. “We can also keep digging for suspicious transactions from Wycoff. Maybe something will jump out.”
At that, the team dispersed to their tasks, leaving the conference room less crowded. Jade remained in the corner, shutting down her laptop. Deke hesitated, torn between the urge to give her space and the concern that they still hadn’t fully acknowledged last night’s conversation.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice low. He moved closer, noticing how she stiffened slightly at his approach.
“Just stressed about tax season on top of ... everything.” She said it calmly, but her phrasing told him she meant more than a busy workload.
He nodded, keeping his tone gentle. “If you need time to breathe—” He caught himself, remembering she hated pity. “Or if you want me to give you space, let me know.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m fine. Really. Work helps me stay grounded.” Then, as if sensing his skepticism, she lowered her eyes. “It’s better than dwelling on things I can’t fix.”
Deke swallowed. The “things she can’t fix” likely meant her guilt and the fragile new reality between them. “Understood,” he managed. He wanted to say more, to reassure her somehow, but the lines were blurred—much as he wanted to be a friend—and more—in reality, he was her bodyguard, and she’d confided in him about a life of cons she left behind.
A life that could have repercussions for his son.
It was all too raw. Too complicated.
A moment later, Jade’s phone rang. She checked the caller ID with a slight frown. He recognized her habitual wariness—maybe fear of who might be on the other end.
After everything with Chad Delgado and the ongoing threat, Deke was on alert. “Put it on speaker,” he suggested automatically, stepping closer.
She hesitated, then did so. “Hello?”
A tense, slightly breathless woman’s voice came through: “Ms. Villanueva? This is Gillian Wycoff.”
Deke shot Jade a quick look, and she responded with a slight nod, signal enough for him to beckon Kenji over to trace the call. Zara sidled up, notebook at the ready.
“Mrs. Wycoff,” Jade said, voice admirably calm. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
