Page 40 of Outlaw Ridge: Hayes

Dr. Logan had no reaction to that. She simply walked closer to the Porche, motioning for them to follow, and Hayes got a glimpse of what was inside. Brooks, slumped over his steering wheel, did indeed have a large bullet hole in the left side of his head. Blood and other bodily stuff—brain matter included—had been spewed over the car’s interior and the windshield.

“Everything right now is a guess until I get him on the slab for an autopsy,” the ME spelled out, “but I figure death was instantaneous. Hard to live long with that much missing from your head. I estimate TOD was about two hours ago. Rigor mortis has already set in on his face, but it hasn’t yet progressed to his limbs.”

“Two hours,” Hayes repeated. So, any of their suspects, or Jemma’s father, could have done this.

“More of that guessing,” the ME went on, “but it appears the rich dead guy was parked in hisLook at me, I’m richsports car, and someone walked up to the window. The window was down so he might have lowered it when his visitor approached.”

“Which meant it was probably someone he knew,” Jemma concluded.

Again, that could be said of all of their suspects.

“Rich dead guy wasn’t reaching for anything when he was killed,” the ME went on. “His hands were on the steering wheel, and the engine was running. The A/C was blasting so he didn’t lower his window for air.”

If Brooks had sensed a threat, he could have just driven off. Or drawn a gun. Hayes figured there was one somewhere in the vehicle. So, that brought him back to the likelihood that it was someone he knew or at least someone that Brooks hadn’t seen as a threat.

His mother or stepfather.

Or an accomplice.

“That’s about all I can tell you now, but Kaitlyn and Charlie might be able to give you more,” Dr. Logan added, no doubt referring to the CSIs. “Once they’ve finished doing their thing, I’ll have them help me load the body, and I’ll get it back to the makeshift morgue that Owen’s set up.” She gave a quick wave to the CSIs and made her way back to the van.

One of the CSIs was in the process of gathering a sample of blood from the interior of the Porche while the other was photographing the scene. Hayes shifted his attention toward them, ready to see if they had something useful.

He didn’t get the chance.

The gunshot came as a loud blast.

In the same instant, he heard Jemma’s sharp sound of pain. Hayes’ heart dropped to the ground, and he whirled around, already reaching for her. She was gasping and fighting to get off the vest. And he knew then that the bullet had hit the Kevlar.

Not her.

But the vest.

She was alive, and Hayes’ priority was to keep her that way.

“Get down, take cover,” he shouted to the CSIs and the ME, though it was obvious they weren’t the targets.

Jemma was.

Another shot slammed into her, this time on her helmet.

Hayes had taken shots to both a vest and the headgear, and he knew Jemma was in horrible pain right now. The hot bullet was burning her chest, and she’d have a hell of a bruise. The blast to the helmet meant she couldn’t hear. And with no breath, she wasn’t moving well either.

He hooked his arm around her, dragging her to the ground behind the Porche. The car wasn’t bulletproof, but the cruiser was too far away to try to get her there.

“Aiden, return fire at this asshole,” Hayes shouted while he fought to get the vest off Jemma.

She was still gasping, and the color had drained from her face, but she was managing to communicate with him. The pleading look in her eyes was begging him for help.

More shots came, not just from their attacker but also from Aiden. As expected, his brother wasn’t pulling any punches. He had no doubt gotten a good estimate of the shooter’s location, and he was firing right at the SOB.

Hayes had a solid idea of the gunman’s location, too. Just off the trail, probably behind one of the oaks that canopied the area. But unlike the sniper at the inn, this one seemed to be firing not from a perch in the tree but with his or her feet on the ground. Probably so he could kill and then run.

Somehow, he had to stop both of those things from happening.

He finally got the vest off Jemma, and he bashed the Kevlar on the ground to dislodge the hot bullet before he draped the vest back over her chest. That would hopefully protect her. The helmet could, too, and that’s why he kept it in place.

“Stay put,” Hayes told her, exaggerating the words with his mouth so she could lip-read. No way would she be able to hear much right now.

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