Page 38 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

He knows exactly where to cut to make the deepest wounds.

Corbin hated Roman. Hated Lauren even more. Being passed over for adoption had carved something jagged and permanent into him. Something bitter. Something he hid behind charm and swagger.

He could be orchestrating all of this.

Corbin could be the puppeteer pulling Wynn’s strings, whispering poison into the ear of a grieving, unstable man until Wynn saw ghosts where there were none. Feeding Wynn hacked files, doctored evidence, half-truths until hate eclipsed reason. He could weaponize Wynn’s grief. He could aim that grief straight at Jessa and Roman. He could burn her life down and use Wynn as the perfect fall guy.

And now here Corbin was sitting in Wynn’s truck, claiming to be a “witness.”

On the screen, Corbin shifted in his seat, just enough to tell her something ugly was coming. And then he said it. “I believe Lauren did kill Clayton Hargrove.”

Jessa’s breath slammed to a stop.

Deacon straightened, every muscle going taut. “Say that again?” he demanded.

“She was having an affair with him,” Corbin supplied. “Everyone knew Hargrove couldn’t keep it in his pants, but Lauren? She hid it well. And when he told her he was going back to his wife, Lila… well. Lauren was a proud woman. She didn’t take rejection lightly.”

“Why the hell would you say something like that?” Jessa snapped, heat flaring under her skin.

Corbin shrugged, maddeningly calm. “Because it fits. She was with him that night. And I think Roman helped her cover it up.”

Wynn barked a furious denial—half shout, half wounded growl—but Corbin barely acknowledged him. The room around Jessa seemed to narrow, closing in. Corbin’s words echoed too sharply in her skull.

Deacon, voice steely, cut in. “You’re telling me Lauren Creed murdered Clayton Hargrove because he went back to his wife?”

Corbin nodded. “People kill for less, Sheriff. You know that.”

The awful thing was… some of the pieces could fit. Lauren had secrets, too many. She’d lied about Jessa’s paternity. Lied to protect her inheritance. Lied to hide whatever Shade had dredged up.

But an affair? Murder?

Her heart clenched hard. “No,” she said fiercely. “No. My mother didn’t kill Clayton Hargrove. And Roman sure as hell didn’t help her cover up anything.”

Corbin met her gaze through the camera, eyes steady, unreadable. “People you love can surprise you.”

She felt cold, cold to her bones.

Because she knew Lauren wasn’t perfect. Knew her mother had made mistakes, huge ones. Knew there were shadows in Lauren’s past that Jessa had never been able to fully explain. But she didn’t believe what Corbin was saying.

“You’re accusing them without a shred of proof.” Deacon spat out.

Corbin finally looked away, turning his gaze back toward the tree line outside the truck as if he’d already moved on from the destruction he’d just dropped.

But Jessa hadn’t.

Deacon’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at the incoming text and showed it to her. His deputies were ten minutes out.

“Enough,” Wynn shouted, snapping their attention back to the security monitor. Wynn was rounding on Corbin so violently the truck rocked on the feed. “I don’t give a flying fuck about Clayton Hargrove.”

Corbin jerked back, startled.

Wynn slammed a fist against the dashboard, face contorted with raw grief and fury. “I don’t care if Lauren killed that bastard or not. He’s dead. She’s dead. None of that matters now.” He leaned closer to the phone, eyes wild. “Jessa and Deacon, you have forty-eight hours to find Lauren’s real killer,” Wynn growled. “Or I release everything.”

Jessa felt her stomach twist, dread turning her limbs cold.

Deacon’s voice hardened. “What kind of ‘everything,’ Wynn?”

Wynn inhaled sharply as if he was steadying himself with bitterness. “The file. The one Lauren made me promise to protect. Roman falsified documents about Jessa’s birth,” Wynn said, voice shaking with accusation. “Changed identities. Manipulated foster records. Buried everything that would have exposed you as Noah’s daughter.”