Page 28 of Outlaw Ridge: Hayes

“All right,” Owen finally said.

Ruby seemed to release a breath she’d been holding, and she placed her hand on Owen’s good arm. “Let’s find you a seat in the dining room so you can catch your breath before Royce shows up.”

That was a stellar idea. But it didn’t happen. Because at the exact moment, Hayes heard Declan shout out. “We got a visitor. It’s Royce, and I’m frisking him now.”

Ruby sighed and continued to lead Owen into the dining room. Hayes and Jemma stayed put, and it didn’t take long, less than a minute, before Royce came through the door.

“What happened?” Royce immediately demanded, directing that at Jemma. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Jemma motioned for him to follow them into the dining room. “The sheriff just has some questions for you.”

“The sheriff…?” he repeated. But then Royce must have recalled that Owen now had that title.

When they made it to the dining room, Hayes saw that Ruby had indeed managed to get Owen to sit down. He was at the table, and despite the injury, he looked ready for business.

“Have you Mirandized him?” Owen asked Jemma.

She nodded. “Do you need me to repeat that?” she said to Royce.

“No,” Royce muttered. “What’s this about?” He volleyed glances between Owen and her.

“Sit,” Owen insisted, pointing to the chair across from him. Someone, Ruby probably, had already moved chairs for Jemmaand Hayes, placing them on each side of Owen, so they sat as well.

“What’s this about?” Royce repeated.

“Missing persons,” Owen supplied. “Three of them. Jacob Worthington, Kyle Furst, and Hailey Trainor. Tell me what you know about them.”

Royce repeated the names as if trying to jog his memory, and then he shook his head. “I don’t know anything about them.”

“Well, you should,” Owen insisted. “All went missing when you were the dispatcher. Jacob, two years ago. Kyle, a month later. And Hailey, sixteen months ago.”

Again, Royce shook his head. “No one reported them missing to Outlaw Ridge PD. If they had, it would have been logged in at the station, and the sheriff would have been alerted so he could assign a deputy to look into it.”

Owen made a sound that could have meant anything. “The county 911 calls are recorded, and each of these were phoned in. The county dispatcher would have forwarded them to Outlaw Ridge since the hikers went missing in this jurisdiction.”

“Well, they didn’t forward them,” Royce was quick to say. “Someone on the county end must have screwed up. Or else one of the other dispatchers did.” His gaze fired to Jemma. “Have you questioned…”

He stopped, no doubt recalling that the dispatcher, Kevin Granger, had been murdered.

“I have people contacting anyone who worked for either the county or Outlaw Ridge during this time,” Owen went on. “But the missing persons calls all came in during the day shift. Your usual shift.”

“Well, I didn’t get the calls,” Royce snapped, his voice a whole lot louder this time. “Something’s messed up. Or someone’s trying to set me up.” He looked at Jemma and then huffed when she didn’t jump to defend him. He huffed againwhen he shifted back to Owen. “Have you found the bodies of these hikers?”

“No, but I have a forensic team on the way out to look for them,” Owen said. Definitely no raised voice for him. He was in his usual cool and controlled mode. “If we find the bodies, then there could be evidence to prove what happened to them.”

“Whatever happened to them, I wasn’t responsible,” Royce snarled. Then, he stopped. “Hikers,” he repeated, and he gave a knowing sigh. “I’m guessing they were in that park near Duane’s?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. “Duane’s setting me up. I’m betting he killed those people and then dicked around with the county 911 records so that no one in Outlaw Ridge knew what was happening.”

That was indeed a possibility. And it was the reason they needed to make that visit to the school.

Royce stood. “I’ll help you look for the bodies. Hell, I’ll help in any way I can. But I won’t take the blame for something that asshole Duane did.” Again, he didn’t wait for them to respond. “Are we done here?”

Owen took his time answering. “For now,” he said, just as Hayes’ phone buzzed with a call.

“It’s Molly,” Hayes muttered, getting up so he could move to the other side of the room to take the call.

“We got an ID on the dead gunman,” Molly said the moment he answered. “Grady Thornton, age twenty-eight. Dishonorably discharged from the Army two years ago. Three arrests for assault.”

That name didn’t ring any bells with Hayes. “Please tell me he has a connection to one of our suspects.”

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