Page 4 of Outlaw Ridge: Hayes

“Oh, God,” she muttered on a rise of breath.Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

What had happened here?

Part of her expected Clayton to jump up from the floor and start laughing, telling her that this was all a sick joke. But he didn’t move. Neither did Trace. They just lay there with their blank, lifeless eyes seeing nothing.

With her gun still drawn, Jemma whirled around, looking for their attacker. Looking for anything that would help her make sense of this.

Hayes didn’t seem to be frozen in place, though. “We need to get these sprinklers off. They’re destroying the crime scene.”

Crime scene.

Those two words managed to cut through the shock, and she realized that he was right. Clayton and Trace had been killed. Or this was possibly some kind of suicide-murder deal, but either way, the room and the rest of the building would need to be processed.

Jemma hurried to the utility box on the wall next to the bathroom. Thankfully, all the switches were labeled, and the moment she shut off the sprinklers, the spray of water went to a dripping trickle.

“I’ll check the rest of the place for fire,” Hayes said. Petey wasn’t struggling now. In fact, the man appeared to be in shock.

Jemma went with Hayes just in case there was still a killer in the building. Not exactly a comforting thought. And while they hurried to the interview rooms and jail cells, she tried to call the sheriff again.

Nothing.

That gave her another serious spike of adrenaline and did absolutely nothing to help her battle the panic.

They made it to the cells, and Jemma spotted another trash can that was billowing with smoke. No actual fire that she could see, so this and the other one must have been set with the purpose of triggering those sprinklers. If the intent had been to destroy the building, then the fire would have likely been set near furniture or some other source to feed the flames.

“Hello?” someone called out, and it gave Jemma another jolt of panic before she realized it was a voice she recognized.

Owen Striker, head of Strike Force and Hayes’ boss.

Since Owen was close friends with the sheriff and also an honorary Outlaw Ridge reserve deputy, he’d made many visits here to the sheriff’s office. But it occurred to her that his visits hadn’t normally been at midnight.

“Back here,” Hayes responded, and clamping onto Petey’s arm again, they headed toward the front door.

In the distance, Jemma could hear the welcome sound of the sirens from the fire engine. That was a start, but she also needed to do…so many damn things.

Think, she ordered herself.

Jemma had learned how to handle a crime scene when she’d been in training at the police academy, but textbook stuff and reenactments didn’t take into account that two men that she knew were now dead on the floor in the breakroom.

As Hayes and she made her way toward Owen, Jemma tried to call Sheriff Bonetti for the third time. And she got the same response as her other attempts. So, she scrolled through her contacts and located the number for Deputy Cicily “CiCi” Barker, the deputy who was scheduled to work the night shift with her. The number was still ringing when they reached the front door, and she saw Owen’s face.

This was not the expression of a man who was wondering what the hell was going on. But it was rather the face of someone who was about to deliver some horrible news.

Jemma had never seen Owen like this. The man was former military special ops and head of a multimillion-dollar company. He’d always looked kickass and totally in charge. But tonight, he was clearly shaken to the core.

Just as she was.

When the call to CiCi went to voicemail, Jemma hung up and was trying to decide who to call next when Owen spoke.

“Are you two hurt?” Owen asked, sliding glances at Hayes and her.

“No,” they responded in unison.

Jemma was ready to launch into an explanation of the nightmare that Hayes and she had found, but Owen continued before she could even start.

“About thirty minutes ago, someone tried to shoot me as I was coming home. A gunman in a black truck,” Owen added.

“Shit,” she muttered.

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