Page 51 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

She leaned a hip against the desk, fatigue pressing down hard now. “So he walks.”

“For now.” Deacon pushed a report aside, frustration sharp in the movement. “I don’t have enough to arrest him. Not yet. Means, motive, opportunity, sure. But that’s not enough.”

She hated how right he was.

“Yes, Shade despised Lauren,” Deacon went on. “Yes, he was having an affair with Lila. That gives us plenty of motive. But it doesn’t prove he poisoned Lauren. And it sure as hell doesn’t prove he’s behind the attacks or the blackmail.”

Jessa closed her eyes for a second. Every path they followed ended the same way. Suspicion. Circumstance. Nothing that would hold up in court.

“We need something solid,” she muttered. “Something that ties him directly to Lauren’s death. Or to the shooting.”

Deacon nodded. “Cold hard evidence.”

All the maybes. All the almosts. Shade was slippery by design, hiding behind lawyers and medical excuses while the real damage kept spreading.

And until they could pin something real on him, he stayed free.

Maybe free to come after them again.

Deacon shifted his weight, reaching for another file, and she caught the brief wince he tried and failed to hide. It was gone almost as soon as it appeared, buried under resolve and stubborn pride, but she’d seen it.

“That’s it,” she said, straightening. “We’re done for today.”

He opened his mouth to argue. She didn’t give him the chance.

“You’re in pain,” she said, softer now. “And I’m exhausted. We’re not solving this tonight.”

He studied her for a moment, the tension between them resurfacing in the quiet, charged way it always did when they slowed down enough to notice each other again. Fatigue edged his expression, but heat lingered in his eyes, familiar and dangerous.

“And going back to my place helps how?” he asked.

Her mouth curved, just a little. “You can take actual pain meds. And stop pretending you’re fine.”

His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then back to her eyes. The flicker of want that passed between them was undeniable, but it was tangled up with frustration and bone-deep weariness.

She blew out a hard breath. “Tomorrow we exhume my mother’s body, and we can have all the test results rerun. Some new tests, too. That might give us real answers. The kind we need.”

That obviously sobered him. Deacon nodded. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

She gathered her things, her body heavy, her nerves frayed thin. Nothing was resolved. Nothing was easy. But resting now meant being ready for whatever tomorrow brought.

And tomorrow was going to be brutal.

They were both shrugging into their coats when the door opened, and Roman walked in. He didn’t bother with a greeting. He crossed the room in two long strides and dropped a thick file onto Deacon’s desk with a sharp thud.

“There,” he said. “Proof the leaked documents are fake.”

Jessa stared at the file, relief hitting her so hard her knees nearly buckled. She let out a breath she felt as if she’d been holding all day.

Roman planted his hands on the edge of the desk. “Noah’s head tech helped crack it. Metadata doesn’t line up. Time stamps were manipulated. Digital signatures were cloned.”

Deacon picked up the file, flipping through it with growing focus.

Jessa looked at her brother, gratitude flooding her chest. “Thank you.”

Roman nodded, but the anger rolling off him was unmistakable. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid, fury barely contained under the surface.

“Someone wanted to burn us,” Roman snarled. “And they thought this would do it.”