Page 74 of Fierce Hope
But would they be too late?
In the rearview mirror, Jade caught a glimpse of DJ’s face. The teenager sat rigidly in the back seat, his eyes wide with fear but also alert and watchful. Just like his Dad.
The kid wasn’t giving up.
Drawing on buried memories from her life with her father, Jade consciously steadied her breathing. Con artists knew how to manipulate people, how to disarm them. She could use those skills now—not to deceive, but to survive.
“You really planned this out, Sarah,” Jade kept her voice casual, almost conversational, as if with each mile she was warming to things. “I have to hand it to you—you’re way smarter than Kent ever was.”
Sarah’s eyes flickered toward her, a hint of surprise in them. Despite her caution, Sarah couldn’t quite hide the pleased smirk that touched her lips.
“Kent was an idiot. I mean, he was hot and everything. And rich. But so stupid. How did he think he could just dump me and take the money?”
Jade nodded, as if they were just two colleagues discussing a mutual acquaintance. “That’s why you killed him?”
“I didn’t kill Kent,” Sarah reminded her sharply. “I mean, not technically.”
“And now you’re cleaning up loose ends. Very thorough.”
Sarah settled back slightly in her seat, the gun still aimed steadily but her posture marginally more relaxed. People like Sarah couldn’t resist having their intelligence acknowledged. Jade had seen her father use this tactic countless times—flattery was the quickest way to lower someone’s guard.
She needed to create a distraction, give them some opportunity—any opportunity.
Jade pictured Sarah’s designer tote bag sitting on the floor by DJ’s feet. Sarah had tossed it into the back seat when they’d first gotten into the car, too focused on keeping her gun trained on Jade to worry about her belongings.
Sarah’s phone.
Now, if she could figure out a way to alert DJ to her idea.
“Honestly, Sarah,” she continued, “I can’t believe you risked ruining your favorite designer bag in all this. I mean, fingerprints, phones, makeup—you’re going to have to toss it.”
She placed subtle emphasis on “phones,” holding DJ’s eyes briefly in the mirror, praying silently he understood her indirect instruction.
“So what?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Kent gave it to me. And anyway, it’s just a bag. Not like I can’t buy a million of them if I want.”
Jade’s heart clenched painfully at the risk she was taking. What was she doing, putting this on a teenager? DJ deserved better. But an even stronger, instinctive certainty flooded her.
His skills were their only real chance. He was quick and clever. He just needed an opportunity.
But the passcode. She wanted to smack her forehead with her palm. How could she have forgotten that? Still, he could use the phone to dial 911. Sarah’s phone looked similar to her own. Same brand. She had to hope he knew that holding the side key would bring up emergency services, even with the phone locked.
“So what’s the plan?” Jade asked, keeping Sarah’s attention focused forward. “Once we get to wherever we’re going?”
Sarah’s smile turned cold. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
From the back seat came a sudden groan. Jade tensed, her heart skipping a beat as DJ hunched forward.
“I don’t feel good,” he moaned, clutching his stomach. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”
Sarah whipped around, irritation flashing across her face. “Don’t you dare mess up this car. Sit back!”
“It’s the winding road,” Jade interjected quickly, drawing Sarah’s attention back. “Motion sickness. Remember when we drove to that conference in the mountains last year? Half the youth group got sick on those curves.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Jade pressed on.
“I’ve always wondered, Sarah—how did you manage to fool everyone at church for so long? I mean, you’re the perfect Sunday school teacher. Even I believed it completely.”
The question hooked Sarah’s pride just as Jade had hoped. She straightened slightly, her expression turning smug.
